The Karpov Code AKA OUAT:FINAL CHAPTER NOW UP!
by fh20s
Summary: Blondes & Richard just don't mix! Co-authored by Fh20s and Roa1. NB: NOT SLASH. Consists of multiple chapters to be published in serial form - a chapter a week. It IS complete- so you won't be left mid-story. Contains violence & torture.
1. Chapter 1

The Karpov Code (AKA O.U.A.T)

_An original story by Roa1 and Fh20s. _

**Grateful thanks to our beta-reader, ****Louise Hargadon.**

**Thanks also to ****HeatherTN**** for doing a preliminary read-through for us.**

_._

_**Before you read this story please note:**_

_**Although we normally write C/R slash, this story is NOT slash. Craig, Richard and Sharron are all heterosexual in this tale.**_

_**It's a stand-alone story, unrelated to any episode, and features all three Champions and Tremayne.**_

_**It is a long story, running to several chapters. You can access each new chapter at the top of the page on the right using the drop down box.  
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_**We wanted the story to be as realistic as possible and, because of this, later chapters contain a considerable amount of violence and the rating is 'M' (for violence).  
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_**Reviews are always welcome.**  
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**Chapter 1 'A blonde...a drink...'**

Richard, stripped to the waist, was lying tied down on a table in what appeared to be a cellar. He turned his head to the right and saw Craig, his shirt ripped open to his midriff, bound to a chair with his hands behind his back. A small moan escaped Stirling's lips as he opened his eyes. Brown eyes locked with blue in silent acknowledgment of their predicament. Richard hesitated for a moment and took a deep breath.

"I thought the case was over?"

"So did I," his friend replied. "For some reason I don't think this is related."

"Great! Now all we have to do is figure out what's going on." Richard said, as he made another futile attempt at breaking the leather strap around his wrist. After a great deal of effort, with no reward, he gave up. He looked over at his clothes piled on the floor. _'Another jacket ruined,'_he thought.

"Have you any idea what happened?" he asked.

"I'll tell you what I remember," replied Craig, suppressing another moan as he turned his head to look at Richard and realised just how much the movement hurt. "It was late. You went over to the bar to offer to buy that blonde a drink - just after you'd seen her buy herself one. I thought I'd leave you to it but when I got back to our room I realised I had your keys. I came back down just as the two of you were leaving but something didn't feel right. I started to follow you and as soon as I stepped outside it suddenly felt as though a ton of bricks had landed on the back of my head."

Richard thought for a moment. '_A blonde...a drink...Craig was probably going to have to be more specific. No, wait_...'

"The Pluto Bar?" Richard asked.

"Yes, and the blonde who'd been eyeing you up all night"

"Hang on, _she _bought _me_a drink."

"That figures, you sure can be a dope sometimes," muttered Craig

"What?"

"I said you must have been doped. You know, in the drink."

_'I thought she seemed a little keen,'_Richard thought.

"OK, OK. So how long have we been here?" he said aloud.

"I was out cold, or had you forgotten?"

Barrett ignored the slightly sarcastic tone in his colleague's voice and said, "I don't think I can break these straps, can _you_get free?"

Craig squirmed about on the chair for a couple of minutes, wishing that the pain in his head would subside enough to let him think.

"I can't get enough slack to snap the ropes. I could probably break the chair if I could stand up and get some leverage against the wall," he finally said, "but the legs are screwed into the floor so I can't move it."

It was at that moment the door opened. Both men craned their necks and saw three figures framed in the doorway. Two large men flanked a smaller one, slightly in front of them, who stood watching the Nemesis agents for a moment and then walked slowly into the room towards Craig. After a moment's pause he spoke.

"So, Mr. Barrett, I don't suppose you'd like to tell me about the Karpov Code?"

Craig frowned slightly and tried desperately to think clearly enough to make a decision about whether to correct the man's error. The pain and confusion in his head was making it nearly impossible for him to think at all. He wondered what the hell they'd hit him with to make him feel this bad. One of the larger men walked over to where Richard lay on the table. The other grabbed hold of Barrett's hair. Their boss continued to address Craig.

"You see Mr. Barrett, I rather need you conscious. Your friend on the other hand..."

The larger man punched Richard hard in the jaw. Craig heard the sound of the impact and felt it too, through the mental link he and his colleague shared. He fought back a wave of sickness as he realised that it was too late to point out that he wasn't Barrett and that he was going to have to sit there and watch Richard being very comprehensively beaten up. Stirling struggled to think but his brain felt like soup.

"Too slow, Mr. Barrett."

This time it was two blows to the jaw. Richard groaned in pain, his breath short. Craig tried desperately to come up with a way to get them to untie him. _'And quickly,'_he thought as a fist smacked straight into his friend's solar plexus. The sudden, sharp pain wasn't helping him think straight and, whatever he came up with, it was going to be a lot easier if his colleague could still walk out of here.

Meanwhile Richard was in the grip of two conflicting very strong emotions. The first was anger at the men who were inflicting this pain on him and forcing Craig to sit there helplessly watching.

_'My God, they'll be sorry when we get free,_' he thought grimly.

He was also intensely curious as to what the Karpov Code meant to these men.

His train of thought was interrupted by two further vicious blows - this time to his ribs and, more for his friend's sake than his own, he tried to stifle the moan of pain that rose to his lips.

"All right, all right," yelled Craig.

Richard wondered if he was hearing things. His colleague was going to co-operate with the man about a code he knew nothing about. Barrett was confident of this fact because he'd never heard of it either.

"You need the code?" Craig asked.

"Don't you dare," hissed Richard, trying his best to play along while he worked out what his friend was up to.

Another blow to the ribs momentarily distracted him.

The other man ignored Richard.

"Well?" he asked.

"I'll need a computer," Craig continued.

The man considered this for a moment and then turned to the larger of the two men who had been using Richard as a punch bag.

"Any trouble, kill him," he said gesturing towards Barrett.

As Craig's hands were being untied, he watched one of the men put a gun to Richard's head. Unfortunately for the thug in question he'd gravely underestimated the extra strength the Nemesis man was able to call upon when he was angry and, right now, he was seriously annoyed. Craig got to his feet as the ropes fell away from his hands. While the men were watching the American, Richard - in a single smooth movement - flexed his muscles, broke the leather strap securing his wrist, grabbed the gun and threw it to his colleague, who caught it deftly.

"Set him loose," commanded Craig, while the men were still recovering from the shock of the sudden reversal of fortunes.

"Do it!" snapped the smallest of the three men, watching the gun warily.

As Craig watched the men undo the buckles of the leather straps Richard wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Once free, he rolled on to one side, spitting blood on the floor.

"What now?" Richard asked as he looked at the three men. Two of them were standing at the foot of the table on which Barrett was sitting, the third man stood very close to Richard's side.

"Well," Craig replied, "we need them conscious, for the moment."

As Stirling glanced towards the two men who were standing together, the thug nearest Richard thought he saw a chance to turn the tables yet again. It was in his mind to incapacitate the Nemesis man then use him as shield while he and the other two men rushed Craig. He swung his fist at Richard who reacted with lightning speed, jumping down from the table and felling him with a single powerful punch. The man lay on the floor groaning and sobbing in agony. Barrett watched him dispassionately for a few moments then put him out of his misery with a well-aimed karate chop. The other thug looked down at the crumpled wreck of his colleague and paled visibly. Craig almost felt sorry for him until he saw the bruises that were starting to appear on Richard's skin. Taking advantage of the men's shock the American said,

"So, if you don't want to end up on the floor next to your friend there, I suggest you start talking."

The leader of the group hesitated for a moment. Richard was not in a patient mood. He grabbed the man by the collar and slammed him into the wall.

"All right, I'll talk."

Craig didn't blame him; if Richard had been looking at _him_like that he might well have talked too.

""I'm working for...er...somebody...a man. He told me to get the information out of you."."

"You're going have to do better than that," Stirling said.

Richard moved threateningly close again, meaningfully striking his left palm with his right fist. The man's face turned the colour of putty and words began to spill out of him, tumbling over one another in his haste to tell all he knew and avoid being hurt again.

"I don't know his name, he didn't tell me. I'm telling you the truth. Oh God, please don't hurt me any more. I'll talk, I'll talk, I'll tell you everything I know, everything, only please, please keep away."

The man backed away as he spoke, clearly terrified.

"Keep talking," Richard said, his voice low.

"I'm supposed to meet him, once I get the information," the man stammered.

"Craig," said Stirling.

It took Richard a moment to realise his friend was talking to him. He turned to see the American indicating that he had something he needed to say. Craig kept the gun trained on the two men as Richard approached.

"I'm thinking we should let him," the American said in a whisper.

"I'm sorry?"

"We let him arrange the meeting and then we have a little chat with his boss."

Richard looked back at the man.

"How do you set up the meeting?" he rapped out.

The man cringed back still further and seemed to be having difficulty controlling his tongue.

"I'm waiting," Barrett said dangerously.

"Bbb..by telephone, I have a contact number."

Craig pointed to the phone in the room.

"Dial," he commanded.

"Maybe you should sit down?" Craig said to his colleague as the man dialled, "I think you're making him nervous."

Richard sat down and rubbed his jaw as his friend pointed the gun at the man.

"No tricks," Stirling told him, "keep it short and calm."

The man nodded and then spoke.

"It's Jenkins; I've got want you want."

He paused, listening for a moment.

"I'll be there."

He replaced the receiver.

"7 a.m Cafe Royal."

"You double cross us and you'll be sorry," Richard said as he rose, checking his watch. "We've got some time to kill. I'm thinking we tie them all up then we can call somebody to pick them up."

The thugs were swiftly dealt with and then, having got Jenkins to tell them their present location, Richard called Tremayne to advise him of the situation.

"Everything okay?" Craig asked as his friend put down the receiver.

"He's sending the local police along." Richard replied.

"So why the scowl?"

"When I asked Tremayne to get them to bring us some new shirts, I got the impression that he expects us pay for them ourselves." Richard said gloomily.

"Once he knows the full story I'm sure we'll be able to charge them to expenses." Craig said.

"I wouldn't be too sure of that," Richard said, and lapsed into a morose silence.

Craig shrugged his shoulders and turned away from his colleague. He'd learned that it was best to leave his friend to his own thoughts when he got into this kind of mood so he sat in silence as the two of them waited for the police to show up.

They arrived within ten minutes bearing two new shirts. Richard scowled as he read the price tags but then shook off his gloomy mood and, together with Craig, left the police guarding the captives and took a look around the building but found nothing. Frustrated, they got Jenkins from the cellar and returned to their hotel room to make plans for the meeting at the Cafe Royal.

* * *

><p>An hour later the two men were finishing off their breakfast while finalising the plan, having locked Jenkins in their bathroom.<p>

"You'd better get going," Craig told his colleague.

"Right," Richard replied as he took a last bite of his toast. He grabbed his gun from the table and headed for the door. "I'll go have some fun in the undergrowth."

Stirling smiled to himself as his friend left. Richard hadn't been particularly thrilled to be acting as back up but the state of his face made him stand out in a crowd so it had to be the American who would have a drink at an adjoining table while his colleague kept a gun trained on Jenkins from afar.

* * *

><p>A little later Craig sat down in the cafe to wait for Jenkins' boss to arrive. Instantly two waiters converged towards the table at which the Nemesis man was seated.<p>

"Well done Johnson," one of the 'waiters' said to the erstwhile Jenkins, "you fooled him nicely."

Craig felt something, that he strongly suspected was a gun, pushed into the small of his back. Abruptly he half rose from his seat.

"Slowly, Mr. Barrett, slowly now. You are going to walk out of here nice and quietly, otherwise there will be an unfortunate accident with the gun."

The Nemesis man ran his hand through his hair, sighed and did as he was told. Richard was kneeling in cover in the park across the road when he saw his friend rise and start walking. From Craig's increased heart rate it was immediately obvious what had happened.

"Craig," he whispered, "I'll follow you so don't do anything stupid."

It was at that moment a car stopped in front of the cafe and Barrett could do nothing but watch as Stirling was bundled into the back seat. He was just about to communicate with his friend when he saw Jenkins point in the general direction of the bushes in which Richard was hiding and the two waiters headed towards him as the car pulled away. There was no option but to run for it, so he chased after the car as fast as he could, not caring if it might elicit a few awkward questions later. Even so, he didn't really stand a chance and after a few minutes running flat out he saw the car turning in the distance. He had to stop.

He was breathing hard, which was damned painful given the state of his ribs, but that wasn't what was bothering him at that moment. He was going to have to tell Tremayne what had happened, which was going to make the two Nemesis men look somewhat stupid. On top of that he'd lost Craig and he knew his colleague was going to find himself in serious trouble. Not only could his friend have no idea what the Karpov code was, he was also stuck with having to carry on with the pretence that he, Craig, was Richard Barrett, a known expert on codes. It was far too late for him to have any chance of convincing them of the mistake that had been made. He and Stirling had been careful to say nothing that would reveal their true identities all the time that Jenkins had been in earshot. Richard now began to doubt the wisdom of that. The only consolation at that moment was the knowledge that they hadn't started to try to make Craig talk yet. He knew that that wouldn't last long though and he tried to mentally prepare himself for the moment when he would feel the effects of whatever 'persuasion' they decided to use.

* * *

><p>Ten minutes later he put the phone down; rather relieved he hadn't been in Tremayne's office for that conversation. He had been, however, somewhat reassured to learn that Sharron was on her way over.<p>

He also had the number plate of the car he'd seen picking up his colleague. The only thing to do now was head to the local police station and hopefully get the address of the owner.

As Richard set off in the direction of the police station a sudden pain in his arms told him that Craig's 'questioning' must have begun.

* * *

><p><em><strong>To access the next and subsequent chapters (once they are published) either: scroll down until you see a blue drop down box on the bottom right of the page (or scroll up until you see the same drop down box on the right of the page just above the title<strong>**) and click 'next' on the right of the box OR click on the down arrow to the right of the chapter number in the blue box and select the desired chapter.**_

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	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2 - So, Mr Barrett, we meet at last.

Stirling was suspended from the ceiling, his arms taking his full body weight. Johnson had got his men to fasten leather straps around Craig's wrists. A chain led from them to separate hooks in the ceiling, anchoring them apart. Around his ankles were two more straps and chains on these were attached to some sort of pulley system. At present the links were lying loosely on the floor. The Nemesis man was sweating profusely because of the strain on his arms, his shirt was so damp that it clung tightly to his body.

"So, Mr. Barrett, that code," Johnson said.

"I don't know...what you're...talking...about," Craig gasped out through gritted teeth, trying desperately to shut out the pain in his joints.

"Wrong answer."

Johnson nodded to a short, wiry man with a pinched face who stepped up and punched Stirling hard in the stomach.

Craig couldn't breathe, as he tried desperately to pull air into his lungs he was vaguely aware of Johnson talking to him.

"You're going to tell me eventually, why make a martyr out of yourself?"

"I'd really like to help you out but I don't know what you're talking about," the American panted.

"For your sake I hope that's a lie," said Johnson. "Because, if it isn't, there is no reason why we should keep you alive."

At that moment the door opened and a man walked in,

The boss wants a word with you Johnson...now," the newcomer said.

"I'll be right there," Johnson said. He turned back to Stirling.

"I'll have to leave you for a moment or two. My men can soften you up a bit while you wait for me to return. They don't use very sophisticated methods but they _are _quite inventive, so I think they'll find some interesting ways to entertain you while I'm gone. I'll just introduce you shall I? This is Watson," he said, gesturing to the man on his left, "and this is Doyle."

The wiry man who'd punched Craig earlier stepped forward and punched him again, in the ribs this time.

"And that was Doyle's fist," Johnson continued, grinning unpleasantly.

He turned to his men and said,

"Do anything you like but I want him conscious when I return. As for you Barrett, any time you want my friends here to stop, all you need do is tell us what you know. Watson, if he starts to talk, you fetch me immediately." He walked across the room then paused in the doorway looking back at his men. "I do mean immediately," he repeated. "Oh and Doyle, it might interest you to know that, while it was Stirling who beat up on Billy, it was Barrett here that held him at gunpoint so he couldn't defend himself. The poor sod got such a hammering that he was actually rolling on the floor sobbing in agony."

Craig saw the anger flare in Doyle's eyes as the man strode purposefully towards him. Johnson smiled when he saw the effect of his words then looked at Watson, mouthed 'Keep him conscious remember', and left the room.

Doyle raised his fists and drove them viciously into Stirling's abdomen, over and over again. The sickening sound of bone connecting with tender flesh echoed around the room, not quite drowned out by the gasps, grunts and groans that Craig was unable to stop himself uttering. Doyle seemed to have lost control completely and the Nemesis man swung backwards under the fury of the onslaught. When his tormentor finally stood back Stirling could hardly breathe and was fighting the urge to throw up. He hung there panting, frantically trying to draw air into his lungs, closing his eyes against the pain in his stomach. He didn't see Doyle draw his arm back, take careful aim, then swing through with as much force as he could muster. Craig cried out in pain and shock as the man's fist impacted with his groin. He tasted bile and swallowed it back desperately. Despite the strain on his arms, he brought his knees up in an effort to try and get some relief from the agony that was sending shockwaves through his entire body.

"Quite the gymnast aint ya?" Doyle sneered. "An' by the way, that were just fer starters."

Stirling repressed a shudder as he realised that, although the man's wild rage had dissipated, it had been replaced by cold anger. Doyle's tone of voice and demeanour hinted that he was capable of extreme cruelty and Craig was under no illusions about who would be on the receiving end. Doyle stepped right up to the Nemesis man, grabbed his shirt, and tore it open. He took a bunch of keys from his pocket, selected one and pushed the point of it hard into his victim's flesh just below the left collarbone. Craig held his breath as the key was raked diagonally across his body all the way to his waist, tearing the flesh. Doyle watched the blood welling out from the cut he'd made, before moving the key back to the Nemesis man's collar bone and scoring it down his body a second time - parallel with the first gash. He paused for a moment then slapped Stirling hard across the face. He was just preparing to make a third incision when he was interrupted by Watson who had crossed the room and taken two cricket bats out of a cupboard in the corner.

"Fancy a game Frankie?" he asked.

Doyle grinned.

"Sure Doug."

Doug handed one of the bats to Frankie and walked behind Craig, grabbing his ankles, lifting him and pulling him backwards as far as he could.

"Hey Frankie give me a hand here, he's heavy."

Putting down the bat Doyle walked over to Watson and, between the two of them, they hoisted Stirling up over their heads and pulled him as far back as the ropes would allow. Then they let go and their victim swung forwards, his weight falling painfully on his arms. Frankie hurried round in front of the American, picking up his bat and watching as Craig reached the top of the swing. The momentum created caused him to head back towards Watson. Stirling felt the impact of Doug's bat across his buttocks as he reached the maximum height and he swung towards Frankie, who used his bat to hit him hard across the thighs causing him to hurtle backwards with increased momentum to where Johnson was waiting. Doug's bat thwacked against Craig's lower back and he was sent in a forward direction again. This time Frankie's bat caught him in the abdomen, knocking the breath out of him as he swung backwards once more. The two men batted him back and forth between themselves, Watson hitting his thighs, lower back and buttocks while Frankie's bat connected with the front of his thighs along with his stomach and abdomen, as Craig hung helplessly from the ropes. Doyle was clearly aiming for his groin and Stirling tried to twist himself a little each time he swung towards him. The glancing blows that Frankie's bat had already made in that area hurt like hell and he was desperate to avoid a direct hit.

It was horribly evident that the two men were enjoying themselves.

"Cricket aint really my game but that's wot ya call a six, aint it?" yelled Frankie, grinning widely as the sound of a savage blow reverberated around the room.

"Nah, caught."

"You're kiddin'."

"Caught at square leg," Watson insisted, as his bat struck Craig's thigh, making him gasp with pain.

"Square leg eh? Well guess where I'm aimin'?" Doyle said, lifting his bat in readiness.

"Knowing you Frankie, I'd say definitely his third man," Doug replied.

"Got it in one," Doyle said, laughing maliciously.

"All right, I'll take backward long leg."

Craig couldn't stop himself from crying out as felt the particularly vicious blow to the back of his knees.

"Aw Frankie, he's looking close to all out."

"Wot a shame. I never knew cricket were this much fun," Doyle remarked. "You enjoyin' the game Barrett?"

Craig didn't reply. In situations like this he rarely wasted his breath talking to underlings. Although he was more than able to hold his own verbally with the likes of Doyle and Watson he saw little point in antagonising them. He was intelligent enough to know when keeping silent was the most prudent option. Not that his refusal to rise to the taunts didn't annoy his captors, because it did but, on balance, they were likely to be a lot more angry if he used his considerable verbal skills to make them feel inadequate.

"Surly bugger aint 'e? You'd think he'd be grateful for a bit of entertainment while 'e waits for the boss wouldn't ya Douggie? Come on Barrett, don't be shy, answer me - you enjoyin' yerself?" Frankie said, as he and Watson continued to bat the Nemesis man to and fro.

Even if Craig _had _been inclined to converse with his tormentors it was unlikely that he had breath enough to do so. Frankie's bat had connected with his stomach and abdomen so many times that he felt permanently winded and his suffering was compounded by the pummelling Doyle had dished out earlier. To make matters worse, the pain in his arms and shoulders as he swung back and forth was getting steadily more and more excruciating. Despite the number of times the men had hit him, the force of the blows didn't seem to be diminishing at all and, as many of them landed in the same places on his body over and over again, the agony grew worse as the 'match' progressed.

"You know something Frankie? I don't think he likes this game all that much," Watson said.  
>Stirling yelled in pain as Watson's bat dealt him a vicious blow to his lower back.<p>

"But 'e's cheerin' us on Douggie, listen to 'im."

"Is that right Barrett? Are you trying to egg us on to hit a few more sixes?" Watson asked, with a broad grin.

Craig bit back the retort that sprang to his lips. He hadn't wanted to give them the satisfaction of knowing how much they were hurting him but he was in so much pain that he was struggling to keep from crying out every time the bat made contact with his abused body. Even on the occasions when he was able to stifle a moan of distress he couldn't prevent a gasp escaping his lips each time one of the bats connected. The torture seemed to go on and on and on, his suffering increasing all the time. At last, after what seemed like a lifetime, his tormentors seemed to be tiring and the force behind the blows diminished.

"Thirsty work this," remarked Watson, walking away from Stirling, helping himself to a can of beer from the top of the cupboard and offering one to his colleague.

Frankie dropped his bat and, accepting the beer from his friend, took a large swig. Then put it down and walked back in front of Craig, taking out his keys once more. He placed the point of one of them just below the Nemesis man's right collarbone this time. Then, as Stirling braced himself for the inevitable pain, Doyle paused.

"Oh wait on, I've got a better idea," he said.

He tore a strip from Craig's sweat soaked shirt and wrapped it around the top of the key then he got his lighter from his pocket, flicked it open and held the point of the key in the flame until it glowed red. Stirling cringed back involuntarily as Frankie moved the key closer to him, but he couldn't prevent it touching him and he felt his skin blistering as it raked down his body.

* * *

><p>"Are you all right, sir?"<p>

Richard looked up at the young desk sergeant at the police station and tried to marshal his face.

"I'm fine."

"Do you need to see a doctor?"

"Hmmm?"

"Your face. Have you been mugged?"

Richard sighed and passed his Nemesis ID card to the man saying,

"Take this to your boss."

"OK ..." the sergeant read the name on the card, "... Mr. Barrett."

* * *

><p>"Mr. Barrett!"<p>

Craig lifted his head; aware that this voice, with its barely detectable nuance of an American accent, was one he hadn't heard before. He could tell by the man's demeanour that he was very much in command here. Stirling let his head sag downwards again, He was having a great deal of difficulty breathing because of the pain he was in, and he made a rasping sound with each inward breath.

"So Mr. Barrett, we meet at last," the man said. Despite the fact that he spoke in a silky smooth voice, the underlying menace was not lost on Craig. "I've decided to give you my personal attention. Would you like to know why?... Well I'll tell you. Apparently, Mr. Barrett, you aren't the innocent clerk we had you pegged as. I've just had a telephone call informing me that you're not merely a cryptographer after all; you're a front line agent. I guess that means you'll have had training for situations such as you find yourself in at the moment. Well don't go thinking that's gonna help you; I've had plenty of experience of cracking men of your type. I _always_get what I want and, right now, I want the Karpov code and I mean to get it."

The man stepped behind Craig and put both hands on the Nemesis man's shoulders, he pushed down on them very slightly but it was enough to elicit a gasp of pain as the pressure on Stirling's shoulders increased.

"I think it's time to change tactics Doyle," the man said.

Frankie looked disappointed until the man gestured to the equipment on the floor. Then a sadistic smile crossed Doyle's face.

"Okay Boss," he said as he bent down and began to operate the pulley system very slowly. Craig's body was steadily stretched as the chains on the floor shortened. The boss gestured for Frankie to stop.

"Had enough yet, Mr. Barrett?" he asked.

The pain was so severe that Stirling was afraid that if he opened his mouth to respond to the question he wouldn't be able to prevent himself from crying out, so he kept silent.

"Give him a little more," the boss commanded.

This time Craig couldn't hold back his yell of pure agony, but that didn't stop Frankie, he continued to use the pulley to stretch the Nemesis man further.

* * *

><p>Richard sat in the police chief's office waiting for the man to return while simultaneously trying to keep his mind off the feelings that were running through him. Just after the police chief had left, to check out the registration number, the pain in his arms increased significantly. It felt like they were being ripped out of their sockets and it was becoming ever more difficult to concentrate on the job in hand.<p>

"I'm afraid it's not good news," the police chief said as he entered the room and sat at his desk. "The car was reported stolen three days ago by a Mr. James McGuire from out Finchley way."

He handed Richard the address.

"Might be worth a visit," Richard replied, his mood darkening. "In the meantime can you see if you have anything on a man called Jenkins? About 5'10'', average build, dark hair, going a bit bald at the front?"

"We'll let you know if we find anything."

"Great."

Richard left the police station and drove up to Finchley. He didn't hold out much hope that this would lead to anything but he couldn't come up with anything else to do.

"Mr. McGuire?" he asked the short, grey haired man who opened the door.

"Yes," came the cautious reply.

"It's about your car."

"Oh, are you the police?"

Richard decided to play along.

"Yes," he said.

"Have you found it?" the man asked hopefully.

"It's been spotted but I'm afraid we lost it. May I come in please? I have a few questions and I need some answers."

* * *

><p>"I need some answers," rapped out the boss, hitting Craig across the face. "The Karpov code, now!"<p>

"I'd…tell...you...if I...could…but I…don't...know…it," gasped Stirling, desperately trying to draw enough air into his tortured lungs to get the words out.

The questioning went on and on. The boss relentlessly asked the same thing over and over again and, to Craig, it seemed like days later when they were finally interrupted.

"Er Boss, sorry to bother you but that call you requested has just come through," said a voice from the doorway.

"OK I'll be right there. Doyle, you and Watson keep Barrett occupied while I'm away, we can't allow him to get bored now can we?"

"Should I stretch 'im some more Boss? Or can I try somethink else?" asked Frankie.

The boss studied Craig's face carefully,

"Not the stretch, not right now, he's too close to passing out."

"OK, suits me," shrugged Frankie. He picked up the discarded ring pulls from the empty cans that littered the floor as the boss left the room. He tore the tabs off and placed a ring over each of the fingers on his right hand with the sharp section facing outwards.

"Like my jewellery?" he asked, waving his hand in Craig's face. "Course they'd look better with some proper jewels but maybe with a bit of colour they'd pass for rubies."

He moved around the Nemesis man to stand behind him.

"Now where can I get some red from d'ya think?"

As he spoke he pushed his fist against Craig's back causing a sharp pain as the rings cut through his shirt and into his skin. Frankie proceeded to scrape his fist across Stirling's back over and over again, shredding his shirt and lacerating his skin until it was mass of blood. Doyle walked around to the front and held his hand close to the Nemesis man's face, blood dripping from the ring pulls.

"Pretty aint they?" laughed Frankie and he punched Craig in the abdomen ensuring that the metal on his fingers connected with Stirling's flesh.

"Would you like me to decorate yer chest a bit too?"

"Hey, it's my turn now," protested Watson.

"Well, maybe later then Barrett. Gotta play fair with Doug, aint I?" sneered Frankie.

Watson picked up the cricket bat once more.

"Of course it won't be as much fun for you this time. Those chains'll stop you from swaying back and forth. Still I could do with practising my swing," he said.

Once more he walked behind the Nemesis man and then struck him across the upper back. Then Craig felt a heavy blow on his right shoulder and upper arm, quickly followed by another on his left. He was finding it increasingly difficult to breath as the pain intensified. Another blow landed on his left shoulder then the bat impacted with the back of his head and everything went black.

"Oh, bloody 'ell," Frankie swore.

There was an angry sound from the doorway and both men turned and saw the boss standing there with an extremely annoyed expression on his face. Watson looked at him with trepidation.

"I was aiming for his shoulder, Boss - honest I was."

* * *

><p>Meanwhile Richard headed back to the police station. He'd felt Craig pass out and his concern for his friend was making it hard for him to keep focused on the task in hand. His visit to Mr. McGuire's residence had turned up nothing and he was now regretting the time lost. The elderly gentleman had been very co-operative, but he hadn't seen the theft, merely woken up one morning to find his car gone. He had just retired from his work in the City and was keen to have someone to talk to, so Richard had found it difficult to get away.<p>

Back at the station Barrett learned that the thugs they'd captured earlier had been transferred to a police holding cell and that their fingerprints had been sent to Scotland Yard, which meant a long wait for the results. Richard made a mental note to interview the prisoners after a quick return to his hotel. Becoming more worried about his colleague by the minute he got back into his car.

* * *

><p>The boss finished his examination of the unconscious Craig and turned to Watson.<p>

"I told you to keep him conscious," he said dangerously.

Watson took a step backwards.

"Lucky for you I'm not in too much of a hurry," the boss continued. "That call was to confirm that my other place is ready. I've a feeling that Barrett is gonna be stubborn and I can get quicker results over there. We'll have one last shot at making him talk with the equipment we have here and then, if he continues to hold out, we'll move him. So, as soon as he comes round, we'll have a final go at him here and, this time, I don't want any mistakes. He's not to be allowed to pass out – understand?"

"Yes Boss, sorry. I won't let it happen again," Watson said.

The boss turned to where Frankie stood. As he did so the door opened to reveal Johnson, standing alongside a rather attractive, leggy blonde. She stood in the doorway looking around the room for a moment.

"Where's Barrett?" she asked.

"Barrett?" the boss replied.

"Yes, Barrett."

"This isn't Barrett?" he asked, nodding towards Craig.

"That's Stirling."

Johnson paled visibly as his boss turned to him.

"My men told me they'd put Barrett in the chair," Johnson stammered.

"And I told them to put Barrett on the table," the blonde countered.

"It's not my fault," pleaded Johnson.

"It is your fault that you hired idiots," the other man said darkly.

"So what do we do about him then? Do you want us to wipe him out?" asked Johnson, gesturing towards Craig in an attempt to deflect the attention from himself.

"Not just yet, he might still be of some use, leave him there for now. I'll make a few calls and have Barrett picked up," said the boss.

"Actually," said the blonde, "I may have a better idea. I'll just need these guys in case I want a little back up." She pointed to Frankie and Johnson.

With that all of them walked out of the room leaving Stirling still hanging from the ceiling.

* * *

><p>After a short interval Craig recovered consciousness, saw he'd been left alone and realised that this was probably his only chance to free himself. Leaning slightly to one side he gained enough slack in the chain attached to his right wrist to give it a sharp tug and break it. This threw all his weight onto his left arm and the pain was excruciating, he stifled his moans as best he could, afraid that he would alert any listening captors to the fact that he was conscious.<p>

He quickly realised that he had no chance of getting any slack to break the chain leading from his left wrist so he would have to unfasten the buckle on the strap in order to free himself. He hung there for a second or two fighting to remain conscious. Then he set to work trying to undo the cuff around his left wrist. This was almost impossible for three reasons, firstly; his hands were above his head so he couldn't see what he was doing. Secondly, his right hand was so wet with sweat that it kept slipping off the buckle as he struggled to release it. And thirdly, he was slipping in and out of consciousness because of the extreme pain he was suffering. To make matters worse he couldn't help being acutely aware of how desperately thirsty he was. Over and over again his hand slipped from the fastening.

When he was almost ready to cry with frustration, he managed to undo the buckle and he fell to the floor, bathed in sweat, his face contorted with pain. The jolt when he hit the ground sent him into oblivion for the second time that day.

* * *

><p><strong><em>To access the next and subsequent chapters (once they are published) either: scroll down until you see a blue drop down box on the bottom right of the page (or scroll up until you see the same drop down box on the right of the page just above the title) and click 'next' on the right of the box OR click on the down arrow to the right of the chapter number in the blue box and select the desired chapter.<em>**

* * *

><p><em>To ensure you do not miss new chapters as they are published please subscribe to story alerts via fanfiction or send me a private message. <em>


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3 - They made me do it

As Richard entered the hotel lobby he got the distinct impression that somebody was watching him. He stood by the lift and casually glanced around the room. There was an old woman who was carrying a yappy dog and demanding better service at reception plus a stocky man standing near the door, apparently waiting to use the phone. Cautiously the Nemesis man stepped into the lift. He leaned against the wall as he pressed the button for his floor. The doors shut too quickly for him to notice the stocky man walk into the phone booth.

As the lift ascended Richard suddenly felt very thirsty and sensed that the feeling was in some way connected with Craig. He wondered whether it was worth heading back downstairs to the hotel bar to get himself a drink - it would save him having to pay extra for the privilege of having someone bring it up to his room. Then he remembered the state of his face and thought that, if he could persuade Tremayne he'd got his injuries in the line of duty, he_ should_ be able to claim the cost of room service on expenses. He decided to risk losing the money rather than face the stares of the other hotel residents and continued up to his room.

As he unlocked the door Richard couldn't entirely ignore the awareness of danger he felt. Admittedly, he could have been picking up stray thoughts from Craig but he decided to be careful anyway. In the end it didn't make any difference. He'd just shut the door behind him when the blonde he'd met at the bar the previous night stepped out of his bedroom. She was pointing a gun at him and, given the distance he had to cover and the apparent nervousness of the woman holding the gun, he decided not to risk an all out attack. As he took a cautious step forward she spoke.

"They made me do it. They said I just had to help them once. I'm sorry, I'm really sorry. I only brought the gun 'cause I thought you'd attack me."

Barrett noticed her hand was shaking and that she looked terrified but wasn't quite sure whether he should believe her just yet. He walked very slowly towards her and she lowered the gun slightly. Finally he got close enough to take the gun from her trembling hand. She fell into his arms murmuring,

"Help me, I'm so scared. Will you help me, after what I did to you?"

Richard took hold of her upper arms gently and held her a little away from him, bending forward slightly so that he could look into her eyes.

"Of course I'll help you," he said, "you just have to trust me. Tell me what you know about them."

"I do trust you, but I'm really afraid they'll kill me," she replied.

"Don't worry, if you tell me everything, I'll take care of you", responded Richard. "Do you know where they've taken my friend?"

"Yes, yes I think so. But I'll have to show you, I don't know the address."

"All right, just let me change, and we'll go straight away," Barrett replied, the blood on his shirt giving him an excuse to leave the room and write a note for Craig to put him in the picture about this latest development and also inform him of the visit to Mr. McGuire. He didn't want to lose any time locating his colleague but it was essential that he left word about what had happened just in case the girl wasn't on the level.

"Would you like a drink while you wait?" he asked the girl, thinking that maybe she'd stop shaking if she had a little alcohol inside of her.

She shook her head. Richard gently moved her to a chair and then walked into his bedroom. She seemed genuine but, not wanting to take any unnecessary risks, he quickly scrawled a message for Craig in case his friend made it back first. When he came back into the main room the girl was looking out of the window.

"Sonja?" he said, really hoping he'd remembered her name right.

She walked over to him, suddenly bringing her hand up to touch the bruise on his face.

"Are you all right?"

"Let's go," he said quickly and walked towards the door. Richard stopped with his hand on the door and turned to Sonja,

"After you," he said.

* * *

><p>When Craig finally recovered consciousness he lay motionless on the floor for a few minutes, completely unable to make his body obey him. The pressure had eased but the pain had not, every breath hurt and his joints felt as though they were on fire. He sat up as soon as felt able to move and unfastened the straps around his ankles. His thirst was getting worse, which was hardly surprising given the amount of sweating he'd done. His abdomen hurt with every inward breath he took, his back felt as if were on fire and he suspected that his left shoulder had been dislocated. He massaged it with his right hand for a few moments while he looked around the room for an escape route. The room was windowless and there was only one door. He made a rapid search of the room but found nothing to indicate where he was or what this was all about so he picked up his jacket, which was lying on the floor, and headed towards the door.<p>

He put his hand on the handle to steady himself while he listened intently. He could hear nothing that indicated anyone was nearby. He opened the door very slowly, looked out and saw a dark corridor with several doors leading off it. He set off cautiously then, hearing a noise in the distance, he hurried into the nearest room. It was completely empty and again windowless. Craig realised he must be underground which wasn't surprising considering what they had been doing to him. From the presence of the apparatus they'd used it was clear that he wasn't the first person they'd tortured and an underground room would ensure that any sounds their victims made wouldn't attract unwanted attention from outsiders. Just thinking about what he'd been through seemed to intensify the pain in his stomach, back and joints. His left shoulder in particular was aching abominably and, to make matters worse, he was getting increasingly desperate for something to drink. He heard footsteps coming along the corridor and men's voices and suspected that they were on their way to continue his 'treatment.'

The only way out of the room was via the door through which he'd entered. He'd have to wait until they passed then slip out and try to find an escape route. After a moment, Craig cautiously opened the door an inch. He watched as four men walked towards the room he'd been held in. He knew that at least two of them had guns and, given that he still only had partial command of his arms, he didn't want to confront them head on. They had almost reached the door so he had no choice about the course of action he must take. Despite his natural instinct he slipped out of the small room and made his way silently in the opposite direction. He was almost at the point when he would round the corner of the corridor when, behind him, he heard the door handle turn. He knew it would be only moments before his absence would be discovered so, throwing caution to the wind, he ran. Much as it pained him to duck out of a battle he knew that it was far more important for him to escape than to risk recapture.

* * *

><p>Richard tensed slightly as the lift stopped on the third floor and the door opened. An elderly lady, carrying a small dog, stepped in cautiously. After taking a look at the Nemesis man's face she tutted to herself, while the dog growled angrily at Sonja, all the way down to the ground floor. The lady's presence was something of a relief to Barrett, at least that way he could have a moment to watch Sonja. She seemed genuinely upset, but that could all be an act. However he didn't have any choice but to go with her, it seemed to be his best chance of finding out where Craig had been taken. The lift reached the ground floor and Richard ushered the elderly lady and Sonja out first.<p>

"What now?" he asked.

* * *

><p>Craig heard a man shout, "What the...?" and knew that his escape had been discovered.<p>

The men stared at the empty room in disbelief, then looked at each other and then around the room again as if they expected to see the Nemesis man suddenly reappear.

"Oh my God, the boss will be livid, quick find Stirling," one of them said.

The men dashed from room to room while one of their number was dispatched to inform the boss of the latest development. As the men frantically opened door after door the boss appeared, white faced with anger,

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" he asked.

"Sssearching for Stirling."

"Have you lost your minds? Searching for Stirling?" he raised his voice to a shout, "Searching for Stirling! God, give me strength! He'll be long gone. We need to get the hell out of here before the police arrive. That's two places those men have cost me. Looks like I underestimated them and I don't like it when that happens. What I've had them put through already is nothing to what they'll suffer when I get my hands on them again if they continue to waste my time," he said grimly.

* * *

><p>By the time Richard and Sonja got to the Nemesis man's car it was early afternoon, Stirling had been missing for over five hours and Barrett hadn't picked up anything from him for at least thirty minutes. He hoped that was good news but he couldn't shake the feeling that he'd better hurry or his friend might be in serious trouble. <em>'More serious trouble'<em>, he added to himself.

"You'll need to turn left onto the main street," Sonja said.

Richard nodded and set off.

* * *

><p>Craig made his way up the flight of stairs as quietly as he could, listening intently for any sign of movement ahead of him. From what he had seen so far he had been in a modified basement of a fairly ordinary London house, with any luck he'd find the way out on the next floor. As silently as he could he eased the door at the top of the stairs open an inch. He found himself looking into an ordinary hallway. He left the entrance to the stairs open so that he would be able to hear what was happening in the cellar and grinned to himself when he heard the commotion as the men's search for him became increasingly frantic. As he walked into the hallway and approached the front door he heard a car coming towards the house. He ducked into the nearest room and closed the door behind him. He glanced at the window but decided not to risk trying to leave that way. If the occupants of the car happened to glance in that direction they couldn't fail to see him. The car engine stopped and Craig waited, hoping that the new arrivals wouldn't make his escape impossible. He could hear voices coming from the car but couldn't distinguish any words. Ten minutes later Stirling was beginning to lose patience and wondering whether to risk trying to leave the house. He decided that, if the occupants of the car showed no signs of either leaving or coming to the house within the next few minutes, he'd have to make a move to escape regardless of their presence. Just as he'd decided that he couldn't afford to chance hanging around any longer, he heard the car door opening, people calling goodbye to one another, then the sound of high heels on the pavement walking away from the house that he was in. The car engine started up again and was driven away. Craig quickly re-entered the hallway and was just heading for the door when he heard another car coming towards the house. Cursing under his breath he decided to try to leave via the back door instead and hurried in that direction.<p>

* * *

><p>"This is the place," Sonja said.<p>

Barrett looked across the street at the shabby front door.

"You'd better stay here," he said as he got out. The girl did as she was told.

Quickly Richard crossed the street and stood with his back against the wall just by the front window. Cautiously he looked through the glass and, seeing the hallway empty, he edged towards the door and opened it. Once inside he noticed the door to the cellar was ajar. He wondered if Craig was here somewhere, and cursed the fact that now, of all times, his ability to pick up on his friend seemed to have deserted him. He opened his mouth to call out to him then shut it abruptly as he heard the sound of men's footsteps coming from the cellar steps.

* * *

><p>As soon as Craig left the house, via the back exit, he gathered the remnants of his shirt around him and, wincing slightly, put on his jacket. He wasn't sure how long it would take before he started to bleed through the material but hopefully he'd manage to get back to the hotel without it becoming too obvious that he'd been injured. He headed for one of the telephone boxes he'd passed earlier when being driven to the house. He quickly entered the booth then discovered that, not only had he been relieved of his wallet, but that all his change had been taken too. Heaving an exasperated sigh he dialled the operator and asked for a reverse charge call to Tremayne in Geneva, so that arrangements could be made for a 'mopping up' team to search the house where he'd been imprisoned. While he waited to be connected, he tried to make telepathic contact with Richard but could sense nothing from him.<p>

* * *

><p>Barrett was caught at the top of the stairs. He made a quick decision that retreat was the better option but, before he could step back into the hallway, something hit him hard from behind. By the time he landed at the foot of the stairs he was unconscious.<p>

The boss glanced down at the body at the bottom of the stairs, then he looked up.

"Nice work, Sonja. Now let's get out of here."

* * *

><p>"Stirling? Stirling, are you still there?"<p>

Tremayne's voice sounded very distant as Craig fought off the effects of the blinding headache he'd just experienced.

"I think we have a problem," Craig said.

"What?"

"You've taken down all the details?" Stirling asked.

"Yes, yes, but what is it?"

"I'm not sure, but I have to go."

Craig slammed the receiver down and flung the phone box door open.

He made haste to get back to the hotel where he and Richard had been staying. As soon as he arrived he approached the reception desk and stood politely waiting, controlling his impatience as best as he could while an elderly lady collected her room key.

"Have you seen my friend?" he asked the receptionist eventually.

"The man with the bruised face? He's in your room," replied the man.

Stirling started towards the lift but was intercepted by the elderly lady.

"He's not in the room you know," she told him, "I saw him go out about an hour ago."

"Out?" echoed the Nemesis man.

"With a blonde he was, who was no better than she ought to be," the lady continued. Her dog yapped loudly.

Craig ran his hand through his hair in disbelief. Surely Richard hadn't allowed himself to be duped by another blonde? Maybe even the same one.

_'Good grief, what's wrong with him, will he never learn?'_Stirling thought in exasperation.

* * *

><p>"Is Barrett tied up?" the boss asked.<p>

Johnson nodded.

"You gave him something to keep him quiet for a while so we have time to move him, right?"

"Yes."

"And all our papers, where are they?"

"Sonja has them."

"Then let's go."

The man closed the back door of the house and climbed into the truck. In the back Johnson watched Barrett carefully.

* * *

><p>Craig quickly returned to his room. Sure enough, Richard had left him a note. It was definitely from him, he recognised the bold handwriting that his friend reserved for mission communications.<p>

So, the blonde had turned up with information. _'Brilliant!'_ he thought sardonically. _'Now what?'_

Conscious of how terribly thirsty he was, Stirling went into the bathroom and, picking up the tooth mug, poured himself a drink of water. He drank it straight off, then did the same with a second mug-full, then a third. He filled the mug for a fourth time and drank half the liquid in it. Then he decided that, having taken care of that particular urgent need, he really ought to get cleaned up. He undressed rapidly, gasping in pain as what was left of his shirt pulled away from the wounds that had been inflicted upon him. He spent a couple of minutes debating with himself whether he should soak his aching muscles in the bath, at the risk of worsening his cuts and bruises, or to take a cold shower, which would help with the bruising but do little to alleviate the muscular pain. In the end he decided to compromise and opted for a cool shower.

Once he'd finished he stepped out and, picking up a towel and the half filled tumbler of water, walked back into the bedroom. He rummaged in the suitcase under the bed and pulled out the bottle of whisky that he and Richard had smuggled into the hotel to celebrate the end of the last mission and added a generous measure to the water in the mug. Then he put the towel on the bed and sat down on it, took a large slug of his drink and started to check out his injuries. Despite very extensive, angry looking bruising, he didn't think he's been too seriously hurt. He'd be pretty uncomfortable for a while but he didn't appear to have sustained any lasting damage. The main thing that he was concerned about was his abdomen, it still hurt like hell and he couldn't rule out the possibility of internal damage. He decided that, if there was no improvement in the next day or so, he'd get himself checked out by a medic. Right now he didn't want to waste the time, or bother with the inevitable questioning.

Having examined the injuries to his front, he returned to the bathroom to use the mirror to check out the rest of the damage to his body. His back was a mess. Some of the gashes, which covered his skin in a criss-cross pattern, were quite deep and there was very little of his flesh that had escaped Doyle's attention. Fortunately the worst of the bleeding seemed to have stopped and he decided that if he put on a vest under his shirt it should absorb any excess blood, thus avoiding the possibility of awkward questions. Having come to this decision he dressed himself and contemplated his next course of action. Unsure of the best way forward, and in the absence of any better ideas, he decided to go back to the house he had been held in. He doubted that the men would be foolish enough to stick around but maybe he'd find some clue to their identities and possibly even an indication as to where they'd go next. He rapidly downed the rest of the whisky then headed out of his room. As he arrived on the street outside the hotel he felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned and saw the elderly lady he'd met at the hotel.

"I just wanted to say I hope you find your friend," she said.

"Oh, er thanks," replied Craig a little non-plussed. He started to walk away from her but she grabbed his arm to stop him.

"You put me in mind of my grandson you know, a little older of course, but all the same you do have a look of him. His father's one of you," she confided.

"One of me?"

"An American. Came over for the war - he was a GI don't you know? Anyway he married my daughter and my grandson's the result."

"Mmm, that's nice," said Craig trying to remove her hand from his arm as gently as possible but she just gripped tighter.

"It is indeed. Not like what happened to my other daughter, oh no. She had her heart broken. Another GI it was. She thought he was going to marry her; they'd made plans. She was saving all her coupons for the wedding dress and what do you think happened?"

"I've no idea," said Craig, wishing he could think of a polite way to shake her off.

"Blonde," she said, nodding sagely.

"Blonde?"

"Blonde, brazen hussy. There was my poor daughter planning the wedding - even got as far as ordering the invitations she had and what did he do but take up with a blonde strumpet. Heartbroken, my daughter was, heartbroken. I told her no good would come of it and sure enough that blonde harlot went off with an English colonel soon after. I've heard tell she's on her third husband now. Not a nice woman." At this point the elderly woman shook her head and tutted. "Not a nice woman AT ALL. But young man, you shouldn't be standing here chatting to me. You need to go and find your friend before that floozy leads him astray. Mind you he looked to me as though she'd already caused him some trouble - the state of his face - I expect she was responsible. Some disgruntled man she'd abandoned decided to teach him a lesson maybe? As if it was his fault - I ask you. Blondes", she shook her head again, "nothing but trouble they are, I tell you. You make sure _you _find a nice dark haired young woman for yourself, you know where you are with them," she finished.

Craig breathed a sigh of relief as she finally let go of his arm.

"Thanks I will," he said, politely.

Having finally extricated himself from the interminable conversation with the old lady he headed for the house as fast as he could, trying to make up for lost time.

When Craig arrived he immediately saw the police cars. He had rather hoped a Nemesis team would have got there first but had no idea if there were any posted in London at the moment. So one problem was that the police had likely trodden over any evidence there might have been. The other problem was that he hadn't been able to sense anything from Richard for well over an hour, which struck the simplest method of locating him off his list.

* * *

><p><em><strong>To access the next and subsequent chapters (once they are published) either: scroll down until you see a blue drop down box on the bottom right of the page (or scroll up until you see the same drop down box on the right of the page just above the title<strong>**) and click 'next' on the right of the box OR click on the down arrow to the right of the chapter number in the blue box and select the desired chapter.**_

_To ensure you do not miss new chapters as they are published please subscribe to story alerts via fanfiction or send me a private message. _


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4 – Five…four…three…two…one

Consciousness came back slowly to Richard. He was aware that somebody was talking but couldn't seem to understand the words. As he struggled to regain his equilibrium he kept his eyes shut and tried not to move. The longer he could listen in, he theorised, the more likely he'd pick up a clue as to where he was and what the heck was going on.

Unfortunately, given his current position, he wasn't going to be able to stay motionless for long. He appeared to be tied to a wall. A stone wall, he added to himself. He noted, somewhat grimly, that he seemed to have lost his shirt again. His arms were tied apart, presumably to separate points above his head and currently they were bearing his entire body weight. It was becoming increasingly difficult to resist straightening his legs so that his feet could take the load. He opened his eyes a crack and noted that his feet were anchored to the wall at floor level; his knees hung about a foot off the ground. The floor was made of stone.

"Know wot this is all about?" somebody said.

"Not a clue mate," was the reply. "All _I _know is that it 'as to do with some code the boss wants and that this is one of the 'specials'. This geezer is obviously a lot tougher than 'e looks, otherwise the boss'd just be stickin' to a bit of rough stuff in one of the other places 'e 'as. That usually does the job an' they spill the beans fast enough, don't it? You know 'e only uses this place and gives them 'is personal attention when 'e reckons they might need a bit more persuadin' than usual," he continued.

"Almost makes you feel sorry for the poor sod don't it Frankie?" remarked the first man. "Hmmm. It's a need to know scenario, I suppose," he said with a laugh.

"Well, the Yanks are always like that Eddie...'ey, did 'e move? Go send for the boss."

"OK," said the other man. He walked over to the door, opened it and spoke to someone just outside. Then he walked back into the room and sat down on a chair next to his colleague.

Realising that there was nothing to be gained by continuing to fake unconsciousness and that he might need to use his arms later if he was going to get out of this, Richard straightened up.

"Mornin', Sunshine," said the man who had been addressed as Frankie. He was perched on a table in the centre of what looked like a cellar.

Richard ignored him. Instead he looked around to get an idea of his surroundings. The set up looked depressingly organised. He was tied by his ankles and wrists to four purpose built metal hoops in the wall. He pulled experimentally at the ropes, weighing up the possibility of gaining sufficient slack to give a sharp enough jerk to break them. Unfortunately there was very little give in them at all. He could barely manage to get even the most tenuous grip with his palms and, in so doing, he had to hold his hands at such an awkward angle that he knew it would be much too painful for him to stay in that position for long. Hanging from his wrists for any length of time would be equally untenable so Richard couldn't help feeling a tinge of relief that he was anchored to the wall low enough to put his feet on the floor to support himself. He took another look around, familiarising himself with the layout of the room, in the hope that he'd be able to come up with a plan to get himself out of this mess. At the same time he was searching for some clue as to where he was and what these people intended to do with him. He was busy trying to work out the purpose of the solid looking box that was attached to the wall, at floor level, next to him, when the door opened. From the subtle change in Frankie's demeanour it was clear that the man who strode into the room was in charge.

"Oh, you're up then," the boss said as he walked up to Richard. "I suppose you're wondering what that is," he added, looking down at the metal box.

There was a hand held device attached to the box by a wire. He unhooked it and switched it on. Richard heard the unmistakable buzz of electricity.

* * *

><p>"Hello, hello is anyone there?" The female voice on the end of the phone sounded elderly and impatient.<p>

"Tremayne here."

"Are you the man in charge? I told the girl who answered the phone I would only speak to the man in charge. And I can assure you I have no intention of wasting my time talking to minions," said the lady.

"Yes, I'm in charge, who are you and what is this about?" asked Tremayne.

"I'm Mrs. Elizabeth Hunter, and I can't abide Bessie or Lizzie so don't you think of shortening it in _any_ way, any way _at all_. What I tell folk who try to shorten it is this - the name I was given was Elizabeth, not Betty or any other such name and, if I was given the name Elizabeth, then that's what I ought to be called - I mean you have to have it right don't you?

At this point she paused long enough for Tremayne to ask her again why she had called.

"Well," she said, "it's about the young man, the one with the bruises and the blonde hussy I mean, not that nice young American gentleman. I've remembered something about _her _that I think you should know. I had to do a bit of detective work to get your number by the way, but then I always was clever that way, would you like to know how I found it out? "

Tremayne, whose mind was reeling a little, managed to gather his scattered wits enough to reply that there was no need for her to explain and perhaps she would consent to pass on the information she had.

"Well, it's like this you see, I knew I'd seen that blonde harlot before and I've remembered when it was. She was in the company of some very shady characters and you'll never believe it..," here she paused dramatically, "I know a couple of them, and they really are very shady characters, very shady indeed. They were at school with my grandson and, even then, I could tell they'd come to no good, real bad 'uns. I used to tell Dorothy, my daughter you know, 'you keep Donald away from them'. And sure as eggs is eggs I was right."

"Can you give me some names?" asked Tremayne rather faintly.

"Tiny problem there, I can't just bring them to mind at the moment. I'll ask Dorothy. She'll remember for sure but she's a very busy woman. So I thought I'd just check that you wanted to know first before I bothered her. I'll pop round there now and ask her. I'll be in touch. Goodbye"

She put down the receiver.

Tremayne put his head in his hands and sighed deeply.

* * *

><p>"So, you're Mr Barrett."<p>

"If you say so."

"And you think you're funny." The man smiled an unnerving smile. "Now you see this here?" He showed Richard the device in his hand. "It has a dial." The man turned it. "One to ten." He smiled again and Richard rather wished he wouldn't. "This is 'one'."

Without any more warning than that Richard felt a sudden jolt of electricity run through him. Bearable, but then that was 'one'.

"This is two," he paused for effect. "You understand what that means, don't you?"

"Well, that depends, is it directly or exponentially proportional?" Richard replied.

"What?"

"Or logarithmic, it could be a logarithmic scale?"

"Are you trying to make me angry?"

"No, no."

"Tell you what, maybe you can tell me?"

A second, stronger shock pulsed through Barrett's body.

"So, what do you think: direct, exponential or whatever the hell that other one was?"

Richard decided that he'd stop playing for time for the moment.

"No, not sure? Well, to be honest, I'm dying to know. So, third time's a charm."

He turned the dial to three and this time the Nemesis man couldn't stop himself from crying out.

Richard fought for breath as the pain began to subside.

"You wanna try four?" the man asked rhetorically, cranking up the dial once more. "Hey, I've got an idea. How about we see if your screams are exponential or whatever, you reckon that would be interesting?"

The man's lips curled into the smile that Richard was really beginning to hate.

"Or," he said, as he applied the device to Barrett's body once more, "how about you just give me the Karpov code before I get really mad?"

* * *

><p>Tremayne picked up the phone again and dialled the number of the hotel where his two operatives were staying.<p>

"Stirling here," came Craig's voice after a short delay. He sounded distracted.

"Stirling, I think we have a lead on Barrett. I've had a telephone call from a lady who might have important information for us. I understand you've already met her, an elderly lady, she... er... talks rather a lot."

Despite his concern for Richard, Craig couldn't help grinning slightly as he pictured Tremayne's face during the conversation with the lady in question.

"Yes, we've...," he broke off as he was assailed by an intense pain across his stomach, _'Richard'_ he thought, "...er we've met," he finished.

"Do try and concentrate Craig. The lady is called Elizabeth Hunter, you need to track her down and find out what she knows, she might have some names for us."

"OK, I'm on it," replied Craig and cradled the receiver.

* * *

><p>"You know you're going to tell me in the end," the man said.<p>

He put his left hand against the wall to the side of Richard's head and leaned in close.

"We're only on five and, you know, you're a mess." He looked down at the combination of bruises and electrical burns that covered Richard's chest. "That's real nasty."

He pointed the device at the purple mark just below Barrett's ribs. As he moved it closer Richard couldn't resist trying to force himself backwards through the wall in a futile effort to get away from the machine.

"There's a group of nerves," the man said as he held the device just above his victim's skin, "just there. It's why you get the wind knocked out of you, it paralyses the diaphragm. It's also pretty damned painful, so they say, but I suppose you know that already."

Richard said nothing. He had decided early on that he'd better keep his mouth shut, partly because it was only making matters worse, but mostly because as soon as they realised he really didn't know the code he'd be dead.

"No?" asked his tormentor, his smile mockingly sympathetic. "Still trying to hold out? Very admirable. Pointless, but admirable."

The two metal electrodes moved closer, forcing Richard to pull his stomach in; keeping as still as he could, gasping air into his lungs in short, shallow breaths.

"Fine, have it your own way."

This time Barrett's legs gave way as the pain ripped through him. He was left hanging from his arms again, desperately trying to draw breath. Gradually he became aware of the boss's voice.

"What do you want Doyle?"

Richard looked up. The man called Frankie was standing near by.

"A closer look," the man replied, with a nasty smile.

The boss laughed quietly. "You'll get your chance, but not yet. Understood?"

Doyle looked rather disgruntled.

"Sit down!" his boss ordered, and the man skulked away.

The boss leaned in close and whispered in Richard's ear.

"You shouldn't have pissed off Frankie. Everybody round here knows you don't mess with his family if you know what's good for you. But then, you're not from round here are you?"

"Neither are you," Richard replied defiantly.

The boss smiled that awful smile of his and looked at his watch.

"You know what? I'm going to let you think about things for a while. I have a call I need to make." He turned to the two other men. "Watch him. And Carter, you keep an eye on Doyle, I want there to be something left of Barrett when I get back."

The man gave Richard a parting blow to the jaw before walking out of the room. The Nemesis man's head hung limp as he watched his blood drip onto the floor.

"Watch 'im?" said Frankie. "What does the boss think 'e's gonna do?"

"Maybe 'e does magic tricks," said the other man.

"Well 'e'd 'ave to be 'oudini to get out of the mess 'e's in right now."

"True," said his colleague. "That reminds me did you get to take your missus to that 'Houdini, Man of Magic' thing she wanted to see before it closed?"

"Yeah, she loved it. She were all over me that night, if you get wot I mean. I reckon it's because she fancied the bloke wot was playing 'oudini, but 'ey, if it works don't knock it! Eh, Eddie?" He elbowed his friend meaningfully in the ribs. Eddie laughed and shoved him away light-heartedly.

Richard's palms were now so badly chafed that he'd elected to hang from his wrists instead but that too was rapidly becoming intolerable and so he shifted his position slightly trying to take a little of the pressure off his arms and the two other men turned to look at him.

"Take my advice chum," Eddie said to him, "tell the boss everythin' you know as soon as 'e comes back. I've seen 'im 'question' a few blokes in my time and I've never known 'im not get what 'e wants. If you think you've 'ad it rough now it's nothin' to what 'e'll do to you when 'e gets back if you don't start co-operatin'."

"Why do you care?" Frankie asked. He was sitting on the table swinging his legs, smoking a cigarette. "I've got two good reasons to want to give this guy an 'ard time. One, I'm gonna be 'ere all night an' my missus is probably out tryin' to find that 'oudini guy. An' two," he jumped down from the table and approached Richard, addressing him now, "one of the guys you got arrested today was my kid brother, Billy."

He stopped and squared up in front of Barrett.

"An' then I 'ear you slapped 'im around," he added quietly, "an' ya know wot? I don't appreciate that, an' pretty soon the boss'll let me show you just 'ow much I don't appreciate that."

"Hey Frankie, cut it out. You know the boss don't like it when ya mess with the routine," Eddie said.

"Yeah, yeah." Doyle took a drag on his cigarette, blowing the smoke in Richard's face. He looked down at the boss's handiwork. "Still," he added, "'e' aint going to notice one more burn mark is 'e?"

Frankie smiled a crooked smile, moved his cigarette down to Richard's stomach, and crushed it into his skin. The Nemesis man struggled, but there was no escaping the piercing agony of it, or the scream that forced its way through gritted teeth. Eventually Doyle pulled his hand away, flicking the butt in Barrett's face as he did so. He briefly inspected the mark he'd made and then blew the incriminating ash away.

"Later, Sunshine."

* * *

><p>Craig took a deep breath and, trying to ignore the sudden burning sensation in the region of his stomach, attempted once more to impress on the receptionist just how important it was that she get the information he needed.<p>

"But I don't know where the manager is at the moment, can't you come back later?" she asked a little plaintively. The fact that she found this particular guest very attractive made her really want to help him but she was afraid that she'd lose her job if she told him what he wanted to know without authorisation.

"I understand that you need to get permission before you can give out the home address of a fellow guest but there must be someone you can ask if it's okay. This could be a matter of life and death," Craig said. "Please," he added.

"Well I suppose I could ask Mr. Henderson, he usually takes charge when the manager isn't around," the girl said a little doubtfully.

"Yes, that would be great," Craig said. The young lady disappeared into the back room, returning a few moments later with a tall, slim, grey haired man.

"What's the problem?" the man asked.

Craig handed over his Nemesis card and then explained that he needed the home address of Mrs. Elizabeth Hunter.

"Well it's very irregular but I suppose it will be all right," the man said. He opened a cupboard under the desk, pulled out a small filing tray and flicked through the cards, while Craig looked on trying to suppress his rising impatience.

"Ah this is the one," Henderson said, as he handed a card over.

Stirling took it and read it rapidly.

"The lady's home address is missing," he said.

"Oh yes, I remember now, she's moving back to this area to be near her family. At present she's between houses and is staying here at the hotel until she finds suitable accommodation for herself," Henderson explained.

Craig's heart sank, it appeared that he was once again at a dead end and that he would have no choice but to wait until Mrs. Hunter came back to the hotel. He was seriously worried about the likely effect of the delay on Richard and that anxiety showed clearly on his face. The receptionist was moved by his obvious concern and racked her brains for a way to help him.

"I might be able to get her daughter's address for you if that would help," she said struck by sudden inspiration. "One of the kitchen staff is quite friendly with her, that's how Mrs. Hunter came to hear of this hotel in the first place. If you just wait a moment or two I'll go and find her."

The wait seemed interminable to Craig, the pain in his wrists made it horribly clear to him that Richard was having a tough time, and any delay was likely to make things much worse. At last the girl returned waving a piece of paper triumphantly.

"It took me a while to find her but here's the address you want. The daughter is called Dorothy by the way," she said, handing the paper over to the Nemesis man.

Craig took it from her, thanked her profusely and hurried out of the hotel.

* * *

><p>"Wot's keepin' the boss d'you think?" Carter asked some time later.<p>

"Sonja," replied Frankie, with a knowing smile.

"Yeah, guess you're right."

"Course I'm right, Eddie. Wan' another smoke?" he asked, holding the packet out to his friend.

"Thanks," replied Carter.

The two men smoked in companionable silence for a moment or two then Frankie got up and walked over to Richard.

"Would you like another one too?" he asked mockingly, moving the cigarette towards Barrett's stomach.

Richard cringed back involuntarily.

"Frankie, no," warned his friend.

"Aw come on, you really think the boss is gonna care if I soften 'im up a bit?"

"You know 'e don't like it when we don't follow 'is plans," Eddie reminded him.

"Wot makes you so sure this aint part of 'is plans?"

"Because 'e said 'watch 'im', not 'use 'im as an ash tray.'"

"'e's convenient though, an' much more entertainin'."

Frankie took a final drag on his cigarette and held it menacingly towards Richard.

"Where d'you think?"

"Frankie!"

"Oh shut up!" he snapped back as he held his cigarette close to the Nemesis man's skin.

Richard didn't want to give the man the satisfaction of knowing how much this was affecting him. He gritted his teeth and tried not to watch Doyle's hand as the man traced lines over his chest, never quite touching him, but he couldn't tear his eyes away. He flinched involuntarily when the red-hot end neared the spot the boss had been concentrating on earlier. Frankie stopped.

"There?" he said with a smile, looking at the extensive bruising and the burns from the device just above Richard's navel. "I do 'ope that bruise is down to Billy. I'd 'ate to think 'e didn't get one good punch in, 'e sure can mess a guy up when 'e's given 'alf a chance."

Frankie grabbed his victim's hair and yanked his head up so that Richard couldn't see his torturer's hand anymore. Then he looked into Barrett's eyes, enjoying the panic he saw. After a moment he tensed his arm suddenly and laughed as the Nemesis man flinched.

"Don't worry, I 'aint started yet," he continued, his voice disarmingly reassuring. "You'll know when I do." He laughed, enjoying drawing it out. "Are we 'aving fun, Sunshine?"

As the man finished the sentence Richard felt the cigarette tip touch his skin, but Frankie didn't stub it out, he just held it there as it burned. He pushed his other hand against the Nemesis man's chest to stop him from moving. Barrett tried to move his legs, desperate to get away from the searing agony that centred on his stomach, but he couldn't make it stop. He could hear Doyle's laughter as he screwed his eyes shut against the pain but soon the noise was drowned out as Richard became unable to stop himself screaming.

After what seemed like forever he felt Frankie's hand leave his chest. The pain hadn't died down much, despite the fact that the cigarette now lay on the floor.

"Wow, you scream good," Doyle said, taking another cigarette from the packet. "Wanna play again?"

"Frankie, for God's sake!"

"Christ Eddie, wot's yer problem? I thought you liked Billy?"

"I do, but..."

"Tell you what; I won't burn 'im if 'e provides us with some entertainment."

"Wot ya got in mind, Frankie?" Eddie asked with a sigh.

"Simple, 'e does a little endurance test an' we get to watch."

He turned back to Richard.

"OK Sunshine you got a choice, either I take the cigarettes left in that pack an' let them burn down on yer stomach one by one, or you stop using yer legs to support yerself and 'ave yer arms take all the strain. I'll count down from five an' if you aint 'anging by yer arms by the time I finish you can start to 'enjoy' my cigs."

"5"

For the briefest of moments Barrett's stubborn streak attempted to assert itself. He wanted to tell the man to go to hell and damn the consequences.

"4"

Where the hell was Craig? Richard had assumed that he was locked up in the same place as his friend but he had been unable to sense anything from Stirling at all. Was it possible that they'd moved again?

"3"

Richard watched as his tormentor took out one of the many cigarettes in the pack and lit it. Was his pride worth this?

"2"

He was fast coming to the conclusion that he wasn't likely to be rescued any time soon.

"1"

Pushing the humiliation as far down as he could, Richard let his legs go limp, taking the strain on his arms. Frankie walked over to him and ruffled his hair, laughing.

"You're a good sport. 'ey, Eddie, I bet ya 'e puts 'is feet down before the boss gets back."

"'ow much?" Carter asked, as he rummaged through a drawer in the table.

"A quid?"

"Sure," Eddie replied absentmindedly, as he found a pack of cards and started shuffling.

Frankie smiled and leant his elbow on Richard's shoulder, putting as much weight on it as he could. Carter looked up when he heard Barrett gasp.

"You cheating bastard!"

"Aw come on, you can't blame a bloke for trying, after all a quid's a quid," replied Frankie, moving away from Richard.

"Sure, but do somethin' like that again and all bets are off. Like you said, a quid's a quid," growled Eddie.

"OK, OK keep your Barnet on."

"Wanna play cards?" Carter asked.

"Sure, as long as I can watch the show at the same time," Frankie laughed, gesturing towards Richard. "Oy Sunshine, that looks like a bloody uncomfortable position you've got yerself into. In fact it looks positively painful. Any time you wanna take the pressure off them arms you just go a'ead," he said.

Eddie looked incredulously at Frankie.

"As long as yer 'appy to have me use yer stomach fer an ashtray that is," finished Doyle, and roared with laughter.

"OK, deal," he said to Eddie.

Carter shrugged, at least this was marginally better than burning the guy.

Frankie turned to Richard and said, "I'll be watchin' you so don't even think about cheatin'."

Barrett hung there, sweating freely, with the pain in his arms intensifying every second. He was finding it increasingly difficult to ignore the little voice in his head that was becoming ever more insistent, urging him to straighten his legs and stand up just for a brief second and take the pressure off, whispering that the men were so engrossed in their game that they wouldn't even notice and he'd be hanging by his arms again before they looked up. The part of him that wasn't blinded by pain knew that he mustn't give in to the temptation, that Doyle was just waiting for him to break, but he didn't think he could hold out much longer, he even found himself wishing the boss would return. He closed his eyes to concentrate better on willing himself not to give in. In his mind he repeated _'I mustn't stand up, I mustn't stand up' _over and over like a mantra, trying to take his mind off the pain in his shoulders and wrists. A moan escaped his lips and he heard Frankie's mocking laughter ringing in his ears.

"Come on, just get up. You know ya wanna."

"Don't listen to 'im, 'ang in there," Eddie said.

"Was that a joke?"

"Oh...yeah."

"Come on, get up, get up, get up..." Frankie chanted over and over, adding to the voice in Richard's head. The Nemesis man struggled to ignore it, concentrating as hard as he could on the sensation on his skin as the sweat ran down his back. He couldn't feel his hands anymore; the ropes were biting into his wrists. He could feel the skin beginning to tear.

"Did 'e just..? Yeah!"

"No way!"

"'e did, just for a second."

"You're dreaming."

Richard heard the scrape of a chair. _He hadn't moved had he? _He didn't know anymore.

"What's going on?"

Richard heard the boss's voice and almost cried with relief.

"Er, nothin' Boss," Frankie replied as nonchalantly as he could, "just playin' cards."

"Then why's he...," began the boss gesturing towards Richard who had lost no time in straightening up. "...Oh forget it." he finished.

It wasn't worth wasting time arguing with his men at the moment. He had other fish to fry and, if Barrett insisted on keeping his mouth shut, boy would he regret it.

* * *

><p><em><strong>To access the next and subsequent chapters (once they are published) either: scroll down until you see a blue drop down box on the bottom right of the page (or scroll up until you see the same drop down box on the right of the page just above the title<strong>**) and click 'next' on the right of the box OR click on the down arrow to the right of the chapter number in the blue box and select the desired chapter.**_

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	5. Chapter 5

CHAPTER 5 - You do seem to have made a lot of friends today Mr Barrett

On his way to Mrs. Hunter's daughter's house Craig was wondering if the two thugs he and Richard had caught that morning had been identified yet. Apparently neither of them had said a single word since the police had arrested them and their fingerprints hadn't been on file at the station either.

Soon he was standing in Dorothy's kitchen. The woman was saying,

"I'm dreadfully sorry but I was only half listening to Mum, she does tend to talk rather a lot and, if I'm busy, I just let her run on while I get on with what I need to do. She was asking about some boys who were at school with Donald, my son you know, but I couldn't remember their names so she left. Is it important? If it was, Mum might have gone to find Donald and ask him. Once she gets the bit between her teeth there's no turning her," she finished, with a hint of pride in her voice.

Craig thanked her and got Donald's address but, when he got there, the place was deserted. Somewhat at a loss, and very worried about Richard who he knew was in serious trouble especially since his arms had started hurting like hell again, he returned to the hotel. As soon as he walked through the door Elizabeth Hunter rushed up to him.

"Where _have_ you been?" she asked, "I've been waiting for you, I was just about to give up and go to telephone that nice boss of yours again - we had a lovely chat you know, did he tell you about it? He seems a real gent, not like the man my grandson Donald works for, now he's not at all a gentleman, if you see what I mean. Anyway there I was about to go off and telephone and would you believe it? You walked through the door just in time."

Craig's head spun a little, as it always did when he encountered this particular lady.

"Well aren't you going to ask me what I want you for? It doesn't do to be backward coming forward you know, you'll never get anywhere like that," she said.

Craig pulled himself together with an effort.

"Er...yes, I believe you can give me the names of some associates of the blonde who was with my friend."

"Oh so you know that do you?" she said, sounding a little disappointed not to be able take him totally by surprise with her new information. "I certainly can, it wasn't easy to find out so quickly you know, Dorothy couldn't bring it to mind at all and when I went to Donald's flat he wasn't in. I had to track him down, I went to his friend Mike's first but he said he hadn't seen him since a party they went to over a week ago - not at all a nice kind of party from what I hear either. Not the sort of party a nice young man should go to. I told Dorothy she needs to keep a closer eye on Donald, I mean, just because he's got his own flat now doesn't mean she should let him run wild now does it?"

"Er, no."

"Well anyway, I tried Jim's next and..."

"So did he give you the names you wanted?" cut in Craig, desperately trying to head off another long rigmarole.

"Oh well if you haven't the manners to listen properly then maybe I'll let you find out for yourself," she said huffily.

"No, no it's not that. It's just that I'm very worried about my friend and would really appreciate anything you can tell me that will help me find him."

Somewhat mollified the lady said, "Well one man was called Billy Doyle, he's a bad lot but not as bad as that older brother of his. Frankie they call him - a really nasty piece of work he is. I wouldn't like to meet him in a dark alley."

"Thank you," said Craig and made to leave.

"I can give you Frankie's address if that's any help. He lives in Battersea... quite near the power station."

Craig got the address and hurried off to find Doyle's house.

* * *

><p>"So, Mr. Barrett, had a little time to think? You ready to tell me all about that code now?" The boss paused, cocking his head towards Richard. "Nope? Well, I've brought another member of your fan club along so you can get reacquainted."<p>

Barrett turned his head towards the door and recognized the man he knew as Jenkins, the leader of the three men who'd mistaken Craig for Richard when they were first held captive. His demeanour made it clear that he was still angry with the Nemesis men for turning the tables on him and his hired thugs.

"It seems," continued the boss, "that you made a bit of a fool of my colleague here and then..." He turned to the other man. "...what was it Johnson? Threw you against a wall or something?"

Frankie snorted. Johnson clenched his jaw, clearly humiliated and furious.

_Johnson?'_ thought Richard. _'Not Jenkins? So that's how they got onto Craig so fast, Johnson set us up.'_ The Nemesis man silently cursed himself as he realised what a serious error of judgment he and Craig had made when they'd believed the man to be completely cowed and made him call his boss to arrange a meeting.

"You do seem to have made a lot of friends today Mr. Barrett," the boss went on."Tell you what; you two catch up while I check the boys haven't been messing with my equipment." He smiled broadly before starting to fiddle with the machine.

Richard heart hammered in his chest as he watched the erstwhile 'Jenkins' walk to one corner of the cellar, his momentary relief at being able to take some of the pressure off his arms fast disappearing. Eventually Johnson pulled what looked like a table leg out of a pile of scrap on the floor and advanced on the Nemesis man. Richard braced himself but hadn't been expecting the man to slam the weapon into his right shin. Then he did it again. And again. Barrett shifted all his weight on to his left foot, while he struggled in vain to avoid the blows to his right.

Richard hardly heard the boss when his attacker finally stood up. "Have you finished Johnson?"

"Not quite," the man replied. He paused just long enough to make sure Barrett was paying attention and swung again. This time it was Richard's left ankle that took the full force of the blow. He screamed as it gave way.

"Now where were we?" asked the boss rhetorically.

The already lacerated skin around Richard's wrists tore some more as his full weight was abruptly shifted onto his arms again. The pain was excruciating and he tentatively tried to reduce some of the stress by taking part of his weight on his damaged shin and ankle. That was agony too. But as soon he took the pressure off his legs, his arms hurt so badly that he couldn't help but try to use his legs again. The door opened and another man entered, nodded to the boss and sat down on the chair next to Eddie.

"OK Doyle, you and Carter go and get a few hours sleep upstairs now," the boss said. "That way you'll be nice and fresh for your babysitting stint tonight."

Eddie stood up immediately and headed for the door. As Richard shifted his weight back and forth, desperately trying to find a position that was tolerable, he saw Johnson and Frankie whispering together very quietly so as not to disturb the boss. His sharp ears could easily hear what they were saying and he hoped to overhear some clue to where he was so he could transmit it to Craig. Unfortunately all he heard was Johnson saying,

"Ah look, isn't that sweet, he's doing a nice little dance for us."

"So 'e is. Nice one Johnson. I'll 'ave to think of somethin' a bit special to top that when the boss lets _me _loose on 'im," Frankie replied as he left the room.

* * *

><p>Craig walked up the path to Frankie's house and stumbled as he was assailed by a sudden pain in his shin. Limping slightly he continued up the path. His left ankle gave way just as he reached the front door and he pitched forward hard against it. He heard a voice inside the house saying,<p>

"Wot the...?" and someone approached the door.

He had just regained his balance when the owner of the voice opened the door and said.

"Wotever it is yer selling we don'...", the words died on her lips, as she looked up at him, and an expression of amazement came over her face.

Looking at her, Craig suddenly realised what people meant when they said 'she must have seen a ghost', he looked behind him wondering if someone else could have sneaked up on him, but there was no-one in sight.

The woman pulled herself together, took a quick glance up and down the street, then unceremoniously grabbed him and propelled him into the house, shutting the door behind them. Once indoors she seemed to lose her momentum once more and stood gaping at him with a rather soppy smile playing on her lips.

Totally nonplussed Craig pulled himself together with an effort and said,

"It's about Frankie. I...er...owe him some money and I've brought it for him."

"I'm his wife, you can give it to me," the woman replied, holding her hand out eagerly.

"I'm sorry but I really must see him personally. I..er..I need to double check the amount with him you see. Is he in?"

"Er no, but 'e'll... er... be back soon I'm sure. Would you like a drink while you wait?" she asked, walking over to a small cabinet and getting out a bottle of scotch.

"Trouble is I have to be somewhere else very soon so I can't wait," said Craig, wishing she'd stop staring at him. "It's really important I give him the money before I go because I can't say when I'll be back - if you just tell me where he is I'll go and find him for myself."

"Oh, 'e won't be more than five minutes, you can wait _that _long surely, I could do with the company, I get lonely with Frankie being out so much."

She bent down to pour a couple of drinks and seemed, to Craig, to lean over unnecessarily far in doing so. She was wearing a towelling robe that fell open as she bent forward and he couldn't help seeing rather more of her than he wished to.

"I'm sorry I really can't wait," he said.

"Go on, five minutes, we'll 'ave a little drink together, then 'e'll be back an' you can give 'im the money," she wheedled.

"OK five minutes then," replied Craig, realising that, as things stood, this was the best chance he had of finding Richard's whereabouts.

The woman handed the American his drink and stood very close to him, he backed away slightly and she stood smiling up at him with an unnervingly adoring look in her eyes_. 'What on earth was wrong with her?'_ he wondered.

Ten minutes later Craig looked at his watch and said,

"Looks like he was delayed, if you'll just tell me where he went I'll go and meet him."

Frankie's wife thought for a couple of minutes then said,

"I think 'e's gone to do a job for a friend, I 'ave the address but it's in a box on top of the wardrobe in the bedroom an' I can't reach it. If you just come with me, I can show you where it is an' you can get it down for yerself."

Craig suspected that there was no address in a box in the bedroom but, for Richard's sake, he had no choice but to follow up every lead. He sighed as he walked up the stairs in the lady's wake. As soon as they got into the bedroom she closed the curtains, let her robe fall to floor and stood naked in front of him.

"Frankie won't be back at all tonight but I'm sure you won't mind that, I should tell you I don't normally do this sort of thing, Frankie wouldn't like it, but I've always 'ad a weakness for 'andcuffs."

Craig had no idea what she meant and didn't really care, he crossed the room, wrapped her robe back around her and marched down the stairs.

She called down the stairs after him,

"It might be better for you if you give me wot I want, otherwise I might just 'ave to tell Frankie that you came round 'ere an' raped me. Bet you won't find it so easy to escape from that one," she threatened.

_'Shit!'_ thought Craig. _'Shit, shit, shit, as if they didn't have enough problems already without a vindictive woman sticking her oar in, and what the hell was she talking about anyway?'_

Furiously angry with himself for wasting such a lot of time when Richard was clearly in so much trouble he strode down the path then drove back to the hotel.

* * *

><p>Richard hung from his arms again, gasping for air, but it was never enough for him to take a full breath. He desperately tried to move his legs but they didn't seem to be working anymore. He tried again, but his muscles wouldn't contract.<p>

The boss was hovering over him, the device in his hand. Richard tried to move away, straining to avoid the inevitable agony, as the man brought it close to his side. It was a futile gesture, which only made his tormentor laugh.

"Now what are you going to do?" the man asked, holding the electrodes dangerously close to Richard's skin. "You can't hold that position forever."

The muscles in the Nemesis man's back and stomach started to spasm as he tried hopelessly to put off the moment when he would be racked with pain again. He knew it was pointless. His entire body was shaking with the effort, but he couldn't help himself, he couldn't take much more of this.

"Muscles not working so well?" the boss asked. "That's the thing with electricity; it really screws with your nervous system."

Richard couldn't keep it up any longer, his muscles finally gave out. He didn't even try to stop himself screaming as his entire body seized up while the electrical shocks pulsed through him. When it was finally over he hung limp, dripping with sweat. He barely noticed the other man pull his head up and stare into his eyes, he couldn't focus anymore.

"I think I'd better give you a break, looks like you're about to black out and we can't have that."

Barrett's head fell forward as the boss let go. He almost wept. He was so desperate to pass out. A few moments of relief was all he could think about. But even as the pain built in his arms again it was never quite enough to make him lose consciousness. He could feel blood running down his arms, he could hear the pathetic noises he was making, but he couldn't stop himself. He screamed inside his head.

_'CRAIG!_'

* * *

><p>Craig straightened up from the sink and wiped the vomit from his mouth.<p>

_'Richard must be going through hell,'_ he thought. '_It's never affected me this badly before.'_

He started to walk back into the bedroom but was assailed by a fresh wave of nausea. He only just made it to the toilet in time to deposit what felt like everything that was left in his stomach. His situation was made worse by the fact that his abdomen was still very sore from the pounding Doyle had given him. He got carefully to his feet, his hands clutching his protesting midriff, and headed for the bedroom. He'd got to the bathroom door for a second time when he realised he'd been wrong, his gut wasn't empty yet. He couldn't seem to stop retching, every time he thought it was over his stomach heaved and he threw up again.

_'God,' _he thought,_ 'I have to pull myself together. Richard needs help and all I can do is sit here with my head in the toilet.'_

At last the nausea seemed to abate but the feeling was replaced by the sound of his friend's voice in his head, screaming his name.

There was a knock at the door.

_'Sharron!' _thought Craig, and hurried to open the door.

Sharron stood there looking almost as shaken as he felt. They both spoke at the same time,

"Richard, he's..." and then, "I know."

"You've tried triangulating his position I suppose?" Sharron asked, after a short pause.

"Yes, I have, that's the first thing I did as soon as I started sensing him again. I'm pretty sure that he's somewhere in Battersea. I tried to get a closer reading when I was out that way at Doyle's house but, with the margin for error, I just couldn't be accurate enough to get a proper fix on Richard. I checked the map and, not only are there numerous houses that he could be being held in, the place is riddled with warehouses. There's no way we can search them all on our own and we can hardly ask Tremayne to send agents looking. He'd want to know where the information came from and, you know as well as I do, we can't explain that."

Just at that moment the telephone rang in the bedroom and, at the same time, there was another knock at the door. Sharron went into the other room to pick up the telephone whilst Craig drew his gun and opened the door. Elizabeth Hunter stood there.

"You don't look well," she announced, on seeing Stirling.

"I'll be OK," he replied.

For once she got straight to the point,

"I've another address for you, it's a man who is in the gang with the Doyle brothers. His name is Eddie something, he lives with another man." She sniffed disapprovingly. "Just goes to show what a bad lot they all are really, doesn't it? Anyway here's their address. "

She handed Craig a piece of paper and he thanked her profusely.

At this point Sharron walked out of the bedroom. Elizabeth took one look at her and snorted loudly.

"Blondes!" she said in a disgusted voice and marched off down the corridor.

"What was that about?" Sharron asked.

"She brought us a lead, maybe things are looking up at last."

"I shouldn't be too sure of that," replied Sharron. "That was Tremayne on the phone. He's just had some news that will be _very _bad for Richard if it gets out. Apparently there **_is_** no Karpov code."

_"WHAT_?"

"The Karpov code, it doesn't exist," she repeated.

* * *

><p>Richard closed his eyes and tried to shut out the world. He repeated the same thing in his head, over and over<em>.<em>

_'Craig will work it out, he'll be here soon, I just have to hold out a little while longer.'_

He tried to focus, to not think about the pain.

"I know what you're doing."

Richard jumped, his eyes suddenly wide open.

"You're trying to tell yourself that everything's going to be alright."

The man was sitting on a chair next to him. Watching him. Richard didn't know how long he'd been there. He'd lost all track of time and he wasn't able to draw on his superior vision to help him because the boss didn't wear a watch and, frustratingly, Frankie wore his high on his wrist covered by his shirt sleeve. The only indication he could get was the fact that Doyle and Carter had returned, suggesting that several hours had passed since he'd first recovered consciousness. During the time that Richard had been incarcerated it had become very clear that the boss wasn't taking any chances, there had always been at least two guards in the cellar with Barrett. This had made any attempt at escape out of the question. If it hadn't been so frustrating the Nemesis man might have found it flattering. It crossed his mind that Craig must have had plenty of time to locate him, which surely meant that he would be here very soon. Maybe at this very moment his friend was just outside the building waiting for a chance to break in and free him.

"I know exactly what's going through your head," the boss continued. "You're thinking that, any time now, somebody is going to come crashing through that door."

Richard screwed his eyes shut and tried not to listen.

"But that begs the question; who? Who exactly do you think is coming? Nobody knows where you are._ You_ don't know where you are. We're not even in London anymore, so how will they know where to start looking?"

The boss spoke slowly in a whisper, his mouth just inches from Richard's ear. The harder the Nemesis man fought to block out the words the more they seemed to insinuate themselves into his mind.

"You see now why I'm pretty damned confident that no one is going to find this place and that means one important thing, I can take my time," he paused, letting the words sink in. "Last time, with Stirling, I had to rush things a bit. I was a little concerned you might be on your way to rescue that friend of yours. He's dead, by the way, in case you were wondering. Such a pity really..."

But Richard wasn't listening anymore, he was panicking. Was the man telling the truth? Was Craig dead? Was that why he hadn't come? His brain was so fried he didn't know anymore. He frantically tried to find that place in his mind; that intangible, ever-present connection. He clenched his jaw, fighting back the feelings that were threatening to overwhelm him. And then it was there; that familiar sensation in his head, indistinct yet concrete. The man was lying, and if he was lying about that...

The boss watched incredulously as a slight smile formed on Richard's lips. He forced himself to stay calm.

"You're resilient, I'll give you that," he said as breezily as he could. "Looks like you've come round though, so we can get back to business."

Eddie stood up abruptly,

"Er...Boss can I pop out an' get some smokes?"

"Sure, get some drinks in too, we'll have a party."

He looked at Richard and laughed.

"I bet you could use a drink too right now, couldn't you? Such a shame you won't be getting one. Or, on second thoughts, maybe you will," he said, walking away from his victim.

"So," the boss continued as he returned from a small sink in the corner, a glass of water in his hand, "here's the deal. You want a drink, I want information. It doesn't have to be much, just confirm you're a cryptographer for Nemesis. Nothing really, I know you are anyway so you're not really giving anything away. What do you say?"

Richard didn't reply. He'd realised very early on that, unlike his underlings, the boss was anything but an amateur when it came to torture techniques. It was abundantly clear that the man must have had training in making people talk and Barrett had briefly wondered who had supplied the instruction. At this moment, though, it didn't really matter - knowing who was backing this man wouldn't help Richard to withstand whatever the boss decided to put him through next. Right now the most important thing was to stop himself from blurting out the truth and that meant he had to remain silent. He was only too aware that, if he allowed himself to be drawn into talking to this man, the floodgates would open and he'd end up giving himself away. For this reason he was determined to keep his mouth shut, no matter how big the incentive to speak might appear to be.

So he did his best to ignore the man, deliberately looking at the floor, not wanting to see the clear, cool liquid. But the temptation to answer was high. He desperately needed a drink, he was starting to feel dizzy and could barely swallow. Besides, the boss was right, he already knew what Richard did for Nemesis, at least part of it, so he wouldn't be telling him anything he didn't already know. He shook himself mentally, he knew that the moment he started to co-operate he was lost. Start talking now and he might never be able to stop. Better to grit his teeth and hold out.

"Tell you what," the man added. "I'll just leave this down here while we continue. Anytime you want a drink, you just tell me, OK?"

Richard heard the man swallow down a mouthful of water before placing it on the floor in front of him.

"Boy that's good," the boss said as he wiped the back of his mouth with his hand.

* * *

><p>Eddie stood just outside the house, thinking things over. Truth to tell he was finding all the violence a bit unpalatable. He understood that it was necessary, to make people talk, and had no real objection to that. If people were stupid enough to choose to suffer rather than tell the boss what he wanted to know that was their choice. But this time it was getting to him. He knew Doyle was a sadist and he was used to reining him in when necessary. He'd stood by and let Frankie work off some of his anger because he'd always liked Billy and he'd figured Barrett deserved some payback for beating him up then having him arrested. It hadn't been easy to watch while Johnson had been smashing the poor guy's legs up though, especially after what Frankie had just put him through. He'd never liked Johnson anyway - he was a bully and a coward. He was surprised the boss had let him attack Barrett. He wondered how long it would be before Frankie got his wish and the boss let him loose on Richard.<p>

That brought Carter to what was really bothering him. The boss's victims usually talked pretty quickly. He'd never known one who'd been able to withstand as much as Barrett had taken and it was getting increasingly difficult to watch the poor sod being tortured. He wanted it to stop. His options were very limited though. He couldn't break the man out on his own and he'd never go to the police, he was no grass, and anyway he didn't like cops. Until very recently they would have had him arrested just for being with Mac. A lot of bobbies still made it pretty clear they thought the two of them were perverts. Maybe he should call Mac and ask _him_ what he should do. He crossed the road to the telephone box and dialled his home number.

"Mac?"

"Eddie, where the hell are you?"

"Battersea, you know the place."

"Christ, not again."

"Well, that's kinda it..." his voice trailed away, he didn't know what to say. Mac hated Eddie's job. Sometimes they fought about it, particularly when Mac asked him to quit. Why had he called his lover? He knew what Mac would suggest but that wasn't really an option.

"What's wrong?" Mac sounded worried.

"Nothin', I'm fine."

"Eddie, come on."

"Look, I'll see you soon. Don't worry, I'm fine."

Eddie hung up, angry at himself. He was such a coward sometimes but he couldn't walk out on his boss. Nobody did. He crossed the street, picked up the beer and cigarettes and headed back.

Eddie could hear screaming as he walked down the corridor towards the cellar. He stopped for a moment outside the door, took a deep breath and walked in. He nodded to Frankie, who came over and took a bottle from him and then got back to watching the show. Mercifully it didn't last much longer.

"Tell you what Barrett, how about we make a deal?" the boss said. "Not only will I give you a drink of water, I'll also turn the machine down a couple of notches. All you have to do in return is confirm your name. What possible harm can that do? I already know who you are. You have so much more to gain than I do, so how about it?"

Richard clamped his lips together as tightly as he could, horribly afraid that he'd be unable to prevent the words from tumbling out. He needed a drink so badly and the thought of the machine being turned down _and _having his thirst quenched was almost irresistible.

"Come on Barrett, it's such a small thing I want you to do. I'll even make it easy for you. I'll ask you a question, then all you'll have to do is say one word - just 'Yes'. For that, you'll get my machine on a lower setting _and _a lovely glass of cool, clear, refreshing water." He picked up the glass from the floor and swirled it so the water caught the light.

"So... are you Richard Barrett?" he asked.

The Nemesis man ground his teeth together and looked straight ahead, determined not to give in. The boss waited a moment or two then, realising that Richard wasn't going to capitulate, he suddenly lost his temper and hurled the water into his captive's face. As the water dripped down onto his body, the Nemesis man tried to take advantage and get just a moment's respite from the terrible thirst he was suffering, but he'd barely managed to run his tongue across his lips when the boss applied the machine to his victim's now soaking chest. Barrett's body jerked uncontrollably as the shock pulsed through him, so much stronger against his wet skin. By the time the Nemesis man had recovered, the boss had switched off the machine and walked over to Doyle and Carter.

"It's late, I'm going to get some sleep. You keep him awake. I don't care how; just don't make him pass out," he said looking meaningfully at Frankie. "Goodnight Mr. Barrett, I'll see you in the morning. Unless of course you change your mind about keeping silent. Doyle, if he decides he wants to talk you know how to contact me, otherwise he's all yours," he said as he left the room.

Eddie looked over at Frankie. His heart sank when he saw the smile on his colleague's face.

* * *

><p><em><strong><span>WARNING:<span> Chapter 6 will contain violence and will carry an M rating (for violence). _**'The Karpov Code' fanfiction will then become 'invisible' on the default Champions' fanfiction page. If you want to continue reading the story and not miss new chapters as they are published we suggest that you either subscribe to story alerts or send us a private message asking us to let you know when each new chapter is published. Alternatively you could leave a signed review for this story and we will contact you via fanfiction as we publish each new chapter. **_  
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	6. Chapter 6

_Warning: Contains Violence._

CHAPTER 6 - For Christ's sake wake up!

Frankie lost no time in marching over to Richard. Barrett's head was hanging down limply and Doyle grabbed a handful of his hair and yanked it upwards forcing the Nemesis man to look at him.

"Johnson tells me you beat my brother up so bad 'e were sobbin'. Well anyone who 'urts my brother answers to me, ya get that? I'm gonna make ya regret ya ever laid an 'and on 'im an' I'm gonna enjoy it," he said menacingly as he drove his fist into Richard's jaw.

"That's just for starters." Turning to Eddie he said, "I'm just goin' fer a slash. Might as well go now before things get too interestin' eh Barrett? It'd be a shame to 'ave to break off just when we're enjoyin' ourselves. Eddie, you give 'im some payback for what 'e done to Billy while 'e waits fer me to come back an' really show 'im how mad I am."

Doyle got to the door and then turned back. He walked right up to Richard, forced his head up again and said,

"No, 'ang on, I got a better idea, 'ow about I use you as a toilet?"

"Frankie, NO!" yelled Eddie, scandalised.

"Aw 'e won't mind, it's not as if 'e aint wet 'isself already. 'Ad a little accident did ya Barrett?" he taunted.

"Frankie, I'm telling you NO! I mean it, I aint gonna let you do that," said Carter.

"You're getting soft. It's that Mac you've been knockin' around with. 'E 'aint got the guts to join us in this job an' 'e's tryin' to get you to quit too. I can't abide cowards," said Doyle.

"Are you callin' Mac a coward?"

"Well 'e is aint 'e? Tryin' to get ya to leave the business just because '_e_ don't like violence - weak that's wot 'e is - an' 'e's turnin' you the same way. Yer'll end up just as feeble as 'e is. Now _I'm _gonna use Barrett as a toilet an' _you _'aint gonna stop me," said Doyle.

"I _am _gonna stop ya," said Eddie and punched Frankie on the jaw.

Doyle fell heavily, hit his head on the concrete floor and lay still. Carter checked he was still breathing then sat down. They'd had enough scraps in the past for Eddie to know that his colleague would be fine when he came to, probably fighting mad, but otherwise fine.

Richard nodded his head in Carter's direction, indicating his thanks to the man. What Frankie had threatened to do had disturbed him more than he wanted to acknowledge, even to himself. It had been bad enough for him when he'd had no choice but to wet himself. He'd held on desperately for hours but there came the point when his bladder was almost bursting and he'd doubted that he could wait much longer. Then the boss had started the next round of electric shocks and Richard had finally lost control. He couldn't pretend it had been anything but an exquisite relief at first, almost a pleasure, despite the pain he was in from the shocks he'd just taken. The euphoria didn't last long though. All too soon the feeling was replaced by discomfort and slight disgust. He knew that he had a tendency towards obsessiveness about being both clean and tidy. Most of the time he managed to keep it hidden from other people, only too aware of the potential for teasing or even ridicule. Now and again however, he was unable to keep from betraying himself; by flicking a small speck of dirt from his trousers for example or fiddling with his cuff links. It wasn't the best trait for someone in his line of work to be saddled with but he'd learned to live with it over the years. Even so, it made a situation like this worse for Richard than it would be for most other men.

"Johnson told me Billy threw the first punch, is that true?" asked Eddie.

Richard nodded.

"In that case I guess I owe ya somethin' fer wot me an' Frankie put ya through earlier. I don't normally go against the boss but this time I 'aint 'appy with what 'e's been doin' so I'm gonna cut you a little slack. Just between the two of us like. You understand that? Soon as Frankie comes round it's business as usual. Ya got that?"

Barrett moved his head wearily in acknowledgement.

"Okay, the boss said to keep ya awake, if you can grab a bit of shut-eye, in the position yer in, I 'aint gonna see - you get me? The last time I punched Frankie's lights out he didn't come round for 20 minutes and this time he's hit his head quite hard so I reckon you got at least that long to snatch some kip, if you can in the position you're in. But soon as Frankie starts stirrin' I wake ya and ya stay awake. Deal?"

Richard nodded his head to signal his assent.

Now all he had to do was hope he was exhausted enough to fall asleep, despite all the pain he was in, and take advantage of the brief respite Carter was offering him.

Eddie sat and started shuffling the pack of cards again. He could do this endlessly, practicing tricks or stacking a deck. It was good for whiling away the hours he spent on the more boring aspects of this job or, as was the case here, for taking his mind off things. However, he was good enough that he didn't need to devote all his attention to it and, right now, he was keeping a very close eye on his colleague. They'd come to blows before, many times. Sometimes Frankie thought it was funny, sometimes he got mad. He was unpredictable at the best of times. Eddie rather suspected he'd get mad, it had been a long time since anybody had floored him and Doyle was a proud man. Carter decided not to dwell on it, he could handle himself well enough and Frankie probably didn't want to hack their boss off, so he guessed he was probably safe enough. Barrett on the other hand? He'd probably bear the brunt of Doyle's wrath.

Carter didn't think the Nemesis man was asleep. His breathing was too laboured and he kept moving his feet in a fruitless attempt to take the strain off his arms. Other than the sound of him breathing and his shoes scraping the floor it was eerily silent. Eddie dealt a hand of Patience and tried to ignore him.

* * *

><p>"It looks quiet," Craig whispered as he crouched below the back window of the house Elizabeth Hunter had told them about.<p>

"Nothing at the front," replied Sharron, who was watching the windows from the street.

"OK, I'm going to try the door."

Sharron watched intently for any sign of movement. All the windows were dark and the street empty. She felt on edge, this had to work or they were all out of ideas, again. She was beginning to tense up, which wasn't helping the situation so she tried to relax and unclench her jaw. Not the easiest thing to do given the circumstances. Craig was taking his time and her mind kept going round and round, her worst fears playing tricks on her. She angrily shook the thoughts away and massaged her shoulders even though she knew it would make no difference. She was glad Craig didn't see her jump when he opened the front door. She hurried in as he flicked on the light.

"What are you doing?" she asked in a hushed voice.

"There's no one here. I say we search the place or do you have a better idea?"

She could hear the fear in his voice and knew how worried he was about Richard so she forgave his sharp reply.

"All right, I'll take the front room," she replied trying to sound as calm as she could.

* * *

><p>Richard hung there wishing he could just take the pressure of his arms for a few seconds. He was so exhausted he was sure that would be all he'd need to get off to sleep. As it was, every time he almost dozed off, the pain brought him sharply awake again. Nevertheless he felt grateful to Carter for allowing him this brief respite from torture and fear. His train of thought was interrupted by the sound of someone approaching him and the fear returned with a vengeance. A strong smell of beer assailed his nostrils and he lifted his head. Eddie held a bottle to Richard's mouth and said,<p>

"Drink this, it'll take the edge off the pain, maybe yer'll sleep then. An' don't go thinkin' I'm gettin' soft - I aint, it's just that all the shufflin' about yer doin' is stoppin' me concentratin' on me game."

Barrett was desperate to drink and it was torture to refuse but he knew he had to. He also realised that merely shaking his head wouldn't give Carter any indication as to why his offer was being refused and might antagonise the man unnecessarily. Despite Eddie's assertion that he, to use the man's own words, 'wasn't getting soft', Richard suspected that Carter was more uncomfortable with the situation that he was prepared to admit, even to himself. His consistent avoidance of making any eye contact with the Nemesis man made his uneasiness apparent. Because of this, Richard was sure that Eddie had no sinister motive for offering a drink and, on the strength of this, decided that it would be safe to talk to the man.

"I'm sorry - I mustn't," he said, struggling to breathe and talk at the same time. "Beer will make me more thirsty."

"Please yerself," said Eddie.

He walked away and tried to concentrate on the cards again but Barrett was too much of a distraction. Picking up one of the empty beer bottles he went over to the sink and filled it with water from the tap. Then he walked over to Richard.

"Damn you, will ya drink the bloody beer if I give you this water too?" he asked, waving a bottle of water in front of Barrett's face.

"Yes."

Carter put each bottle in turn to Richard's dry and cracked lips and the Nemesis man drained both bottles.

"Now for Pete's sake get some kip," said Eddie. "Frankie 'aint gonna stay out much longer."

* * *

><p>"Anything?" Craig asked as Sharron walked into the kitchen.<p>

"Nothing. You?"

Stirling shook his head.

"There's got to be something," Sharron continued. "This is the only lead we have."

Craig gave a heavy sigh, "You're right we can't just leave it. We'll just have to go through this place again… and this time we examine every single thing… every letter, every scrap of paper… anything at all that might give us some idea of where Richard might be."

"OK," Sharron replied. "You look downstairs this time, maybe you'll find something that I missed."

"I sure as hell hope so," Craig replied as he walked out of the kitchen.

* * *

><p>Eddie dealt the cards again. Barrett had finally stopped shuffling around quarter of an hour ago. Since then Carter had been thinking about what Frankie would do when he woke up. He glanced over to where his colleague lay sprawled on the floor and froze. Doyle was moving his head.<p>

Eddie jumped up and ran over to Barrett.

"Wake up," he whispered, "for Christ's sake wake up!"

Nothing.

Carter hauled him to his feet. "Come on!"

He saw Barrett's eyes flutter open as he lifted his head. Then he felt him tense as he realised where he was.

"Oh, I get it."

Carter turned round to see Doyle levering himself off the floor and pulling himself up to his full height. Eddie stepped back; Frankie looked like he was in an ugly mood, shaking his head slowly as he advanced towards them.

"So, ya fancy 'im, is that it?"

"What?" Eddie said.

"You knock me out so you can have your wicked way with him?" Doyle added with a sneer.

"Frankie..."

"You 'it me again an' maybe I'll tell the boss what you've been up to." He rounded on Barrett, pulling his head up by his hair. "Did you enjoy it? Bet you did." Frankie punched him in the ribs and then turned towards Eddie.

"I'll be goin' fer that slash now. Try to 'ave yer trousers on when I get back," he said as he left.

Carter shifted from one foot to the other as the silence dragged on. He wasn't sure why he cared, Doyle could get like this when he was angry, or drunk. Why should it matter what Barrett thought, he'd be dead soon.

"It weren't that," he blurted out. looking down at the floor. "I mean, I didn't...you know...I didn't..."

"OK," Richard replied quietly.

* * *

><p>"Any luck?" Sharron asked, as Craig walked into the living room.<p>

"No."

"There must be something surely."

*"Well there isn't, OK," the American snapped. There was an uncomfortable silence.

"Sorry," he added eventually, "I'm just..."

"It's all right."

Craig slumped down into a chair by the kitchen table. He had to think of something, but what the hell were they supposed to do now? Sharron joined him. The tension that she felt showed on her face and he couldn't help sensing it too, it made it even harder for him to think.

"OK," he said at last, "then I guess we'll just have to sit it out here and wait for Mac or Eddie to show up."

* * *

><p>Eddie jumped at the knock at the door. After a moment Frankie poked his head round.<p>

"Thought I'd give you a moment," Doyle said, smirking, "it's bad enough imaginin' wot you freaks get up to, don't wanna see it."

"Knock it off, Frankie."

"Aw, I'm sorry. Am I 'urtin' yer feelings?" Doyle replied in a mocking tone. "I'd shut up if I was you," he added threateningly.

Eddie kept quiet as his colleague turned to Richard.

"We keep gettin' interrupted. Sorry 'bout that. But don't worry, you've got my undivided attention now," Frankie said as he walked over to him. "So, you feel like talkin'?"

Barrett stared straight ahead, trying desperately to stay calm.

"Nope? Fair enough. So, what to do?"

Doyle's eyes drifted towards the machine on the floor.

"Wow, it's on 8. Most people black out on 6."

"Frankie," Eddie warned, "the boss'll kill ya if ya break it."

"I aint gonna break it. I'll put it on low." Doyle smiled nastily at Richard. "After all, it aint the settin', it's where you put it. Were you plannin' on 'avin' children, Barrett?" Frankie looked meaningfully downwards.

Doyle's smile broadened as Richard failed to hide his rising panic. He was breathing hard, unable to tear his eyes away from the machine as Frankie turned it on. And then off again.

"Nah," he said looking at his watch, "we got plenty of time. I'll save that for later, somethin' to look forward to. Besides," he added as he walked over to the table, "I was wonderin'..." He pulled open the drawer. "Oh, there it is."

Doyle took a cricket ball out of the drawer and flipped it in the air.

"I tried to explain cricket to the boss once but 'e likes baseball. Sounds crap to me," he added conversationally as he walked to the far side of the cellar. "Wot was it again? Balls an' strikes?" He laughed maliciously. "Actually rather appropriate. Kind of the same thing in my game."

"Frankie, what if you 'it 'im in the 'ead?" Eddie spoke up.

"I aint gonna. Bet you a quid I can 'it 'em from 'ere."

Richard watched as Doyle wound up and hurled the ball. He flinched as it thudded into the stone just to his left.

"Damn," said Frankie as he retrieved the ball.

Doyle hurled it again and Barrett was unable to prevent his gasp of pain as it landed with a gut-wrenching thump on his right thigh.

"Better," nodded Frankie to himself as he retrieved the ball again, "I reckon I got the range now. Eddie, wot about that bet? 'Ow many times do you think I need to throw the ball before it makes contact with its namesakes? I reckon I can do it in the next two throws - you on?"

"Frankie, lay off 'im will ya - if your aim's off just once, an' you 'it 'is 'ead, you know the boss will go ballistic. It 'aint worth it."

"Aah, ya worried about yer new boyfriend? Oh, of course, I get it - 'e'll be no good to ya if I keep going will 'e? Bet Mac wouldn't be too 'appy if I told 'im you got a new 'friend' eh? Or maybe 'e wouldn't mind, perhaps 'e 'aint so faithful 'isself - I've 'eard your sort like variety."

"You keep your mouth off Mac," growled Eddie.

"Unlike you?...An' probably most of London's faggots," said Frankie with an unpleasant leer.

It took a second or two before the jibe went home, then Carter's face changed. He took a threatening step towards Doyle, who realised he'd gone too far, and backed away sharply. He made haste to placate his colleague.

"OK, OK, just kiddin' around. Let's not fight. My beef 'aint with you it's with that bastard there," he said, pointing at Richard. "Coz of 'is stupid stubbornness we're stuck 'ere all night and I, for one, wanna go home. An' that's before we bring what 'e did to Billy into it. I reckon 'e owes me, if I 'ave to stay up all night babysittin' 'im, I'm gonna 'ave me some entertainment at 'is expense, " he finished.

Richard bit his lip as he watched Doyle take aim and hurl the ball at him for a third time. Barrett twisted in a vain attempt to avoid the impact. Despite his best efforts it smashed into his ribs. He bit back a scream as he felt the skin tear at his wrists again, momentarily taking his mind off the pain in his side. He tried to get his breath back as he watched Frankie pick up the cricket ball and walk back to the far wall. Eddie was sitting at the table again. He was sullenly dealing himself a hand of solitaire, seemingly unwilling to get involved.

"Wot d'ya reckon Barrett? 'Ow many times do you think I'll miss?"

Frankie tossed the ball in the air as he spoke.

"Don't wanna play?" he mocked. "Still, better than the other game, I can't miss with the zapper, can I?"

He threw the ball again. Richard doubled over as it hit the bruise below his sternum. He gasped for air, trying not to think about the blood running down his arms. As he struggled to straighten up he saw the ball coming towards him again. This time he screamed as it hit his already battered right shin.

It took him a while to recover. When he finally looked up he saw Frankie watching him, waiting. When he realised he had Richard's full attention he smiled.

"Want me to stop?" Doyle asked. "You just 'ave to ask."

Barrett stared straight ahead as he heard the man laugh. He was determined not to give in to the urge to speak to Frankie, knowing that once he started he might not be able to stop and that his tormentor would capitalise on that. Then he saw Doyle draw back his right arm and hold it there.

"You sure? Sooner or later I'm gonna hit the mark."

Richard flinched as Frankie's arm swung through. He felt the ropes pull at his wrists. But nothing more.

He looked up. Doyle moved his left hand from behind his back. He laughed as he showed the Nemesis man the ball.

"Made ya jump," he said as he tossed it back into his right hand.

All of a sudden the futility of it all washed over Richard. He had a hard time keeping himself together as he thought about the situation he was in. His lacerated skin, bruises, burns, the blood running down his arms from his wrists. The constant pain and fear, the exhaustion, the helplessness. The torture dealt out to him by the boss who wanted information that Richard didn't have and by Doyle who just enjoyed hurting for the sake of it. The knowledge that he had no choice but to stand there while his tormentor took pot shots at him with the cricket ball until he tired of that particular 'game' and then what did he have to look forward to? Peace? Respite? No, Frankie had made it only too clear what was in store next. Richard glanced down at the machine on the floor and had a tough time to prevent himself bursting into tears. He battled desperately against giving in to his feelings and managed to get a grip on himself at last.

He looked up and saw Doyle preparing to pitch the ball at him again and he wondered if his face showed any sign of the crisis through which he'd just passed. But he had no more time to think as the ball hurtled towards him, smashing into the wall inches from his head.

"Frankie! For Christ's sake!" yelled Eddie

"OK, OK," Frankie replied, "it's 'arder than it looks."

Barrett heard the tone of Doyle's voice and the panic started to rise again. Why couldn't it have hit him in the head? At least he wouldn't be able to feel the pain anymore.

Frankie walked towards him again, bent down and snatched up the cricket ball. He stood in front of Richard for a moment, tossing the ball from hand to hand.

"You know I 'ate to lose," he said after a moment, his mouth curling into a smirk.

There was nothing Barrett could do and, at such short range, no way Doyle could miss. He wound up and put all his strength into his final throw. Richard's knees buckled as the ball impacted with his groin. Everything went black for a second, he couldn't hear properly, it sounded like he was underwater. He couldn't breathe enough to scream. He'd have thrown up if there had been anything in his stomach. As it was he tasted beer as he choked. Amongst all this he felt his head yanked up. Doyle's face was close but Barrett couldn't focus. Frankie stared into Richard's eyes and slowly broke into a smile.

"Oh dear, that looked like it 'urt a bit." He let go of the Nemesis man's head and wandered back to Eddie. "Don't worry, you don't 'ave to pay up, I may 'ave cheated."

He laughed and turned back to Richard. "You're great Barrett, ya know that, you just WILL not pass out, will ya." The man sounded exhilarated. "Yer a bloody early Christmas present, that's what you are." He pulled Richard's head up again, Doyle was breathing fast, clearly excited. " I wonder what it'll take, eh?"

"Frankie!"

"Maybe I can get ya to talk? 'Cause, you're close," Doyle breathed, "aint you? By the time the boss gets back you'll be beggin' to talk. You'll tell us stuff we didn't even wanna know."

Richard saw the puzzled look on Frankie's face and immediately knew he'd seen the fear that had shot through him.

"Interestin'," Doyle said, "looks like you've got a few secrets in that little 'ead of yours."

Suddenly Barrett realised more than ever how important it was that he kept his mouth shut.

"Get up!"

Richard didn't move.

"I said get up," Frankie repeated. "Yer not even tryin'. Want me to make ya?"

Barrett shifted onto his left foot and tried to straighten his leg.

"Want some incentive?"

Richard heard a cigarette lighter and seconds later he felt the flame under his left forearm. In desperation he forced himself upright.

* * *

><p>Craig had pulled up his sleeve before he realised the pain wasn't his. It was hard to wrap his head around it, feeling his skin blister while looking at his own, undamaged arm.<p>

He and Sharron had been sitting in the dark for the best part of an hour with nothing to take their minds off the pain that kept shooting through them. Stirling had made yet another fruitless search of the premises. He hadn't really expected to find anything but he'd needed something to do. He'd found nothing at all to help and no real clues to the line of 'work' Carter was in. He suspected that the handcuffs he'd discovered in the cupboard by the bed were for Mac and Eddie's personal use, rather than for restraining potential victims in preparation for the boss's ministrations. All the same he'd slipped the cuffs into his pocket just in case they did turn out to be useful as evidence of criminal activity.

Craig turned to his colleague and said, "I'm beginning to doubt that anyone is coming back here tonight. I think that you should go back to the hotel and see if anything turns up there. I'll wait here just in case someone does show up."

"Don't you think it would be better if _you _went back to the hotel and _I_ stayed here?" suggested Sharron. "You look all in, and anyway it's Mrs. Hunter who is most likely to bring us information at the hotel, and we both know what she thinks of me. And then there's Mac," she continued thoughtfully, "he might be more susceptible to the feminine approach," she said with a smile.

"You're forgetting Mac's proclivities; if we have to resort to using our charms then I'm more likely to get information from him that you are. No Sharron, you wanted to help, obey orders, go on," said Craig, a little testily.

"If you say so," Sharron said. She paused for a moment, appearing to be deep in thought.

"What are you doing _now_?" Craig asked, sounding impatient.

"I'm trying to get a fix on Richard. Then, when I get back to the hotel, I can take another reading and see if I can manage to pinpoint where he is. I know you tried earlier but I still think worth another attempt, I might have more success this time."

"Oh boy, I sure hope so, we could certainly use a break," Craig said, running his hand through his hair. He reached into his jacket pocket and handed her the map that he'd marked earlier.

And now all he could do was wait for either Mac or Eddie to show up.

* * *

><p><em><strong><span>WARNING:<span> Chapter 7 will contain considerable violence and descriptions of torture so it will carry an M rating (for violence). _**'The Karpov Code' fanfiction will then become 'invisible' on the default Champions' fanfiction page. If you want to continue reading the story and not miss new chapters as they are published we suggest that you either subscribe to story alerts or send us a private message asking us to let you know when each new chapter is published. Alternatively you could leave a signed review for this story and we will contact you via fanfiction as we publish each new chapter. **_  
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To access the next and subsequent chapters (once they are published) either: scroll down until you see a blue drop down box on the bottom right of the page (or scroll up until you see the same drop down box on the right of the page just above the title) and click 'next' on the right of the box OR click on the down arrow to the right of the chapter number in the blue box and select the desired chapter.


	7. Chapter 7

**WARNING: EXTREME VIOLENCE AND TORTURE - RATED M for Violence  
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**A word of reassurance -We want to be as realistic as possible. However, we draw the line at permanent damage. Therefore our Champions WILL remain intact and will eventually recover from any injuries inflicted upon them.  
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CHAPTER 7 -Why stop when we're 'avin' fun.

"Get up!"

Richard hung from his arms again, his legs having given way moments before. He forced his knees straight as he heard Doyle flip open the zippo lighter.

"You see, you can do it if you try," Frankie mocked. "Still..."

Doyle clamped his left hand over Richard's shoulder, holding his arm straight so that the rope bit into the Nemesis man's wrist again.

"...why stop when we're 'avin' fun."

Frankie held the lighter below Barrett's arm and lit it.

"Can ya feel it yet?"

Richard struggled against Doyle's grip, feeling the heat building.

"Wot about now?" Frankie moved the lighter up an inch.

Richard tried desperately to pull his arm away as the flame licked it, the pain intensifying as his skin began to burn. He only started screaming when he felt it blister but Frankie didn't stop this time. He was saying something but his victim couldn't hear it. Barrett knew the screams were coming from him, but he didn't recognise his own voice anymore. It took him a while to realise that Doyle had pulled the flame away and was arguing with Carter.

"Don't ya think you've 'ad enough 'fun' for one night?" Eddie asked.

"Stay out of it," his colleague replied angrily. "Wot's got into you? Is it the noise, is it upsettin' ya? Puttin' you off yer game?"

"Frankie..."

"Tell you wot," Doyle said as he walked over to the table and fished around in the drawer for a moment, "I can sort that for ya."

He shoved something into his pocket and, as he turned, grabbed Barrett's shirt from the back of a chair and ripped the sleeve off savagely. Despite his fear of what was about to happen and the pain he was in, Richard felt a momentary pang of distress as he watched Doyle ruin his shirt. He knew it was irrational to care about something as trivial as his clothing right now but, all the same, it was one of his favourite shirts and it hurt to see it destroyed so wantonly. Frankie advanced on Barrett and stopped just in front of his victim.

"Open wide," he commanded.

Richard clenched his jaw automatically.

"D'ya want me to make ya?"

Doyle grabbed Barrett's groin and twisted. As Richard opened his mouth to cry out, Frankie started stuffing the shirtsleeve into it. When he was done he took a roll of tape from his pocket, cut a length off with his teeth and stuck it over the Nemesis man's lips. He slapped Richard lightly on the face.

"Good lad."

"Can 'e breathe?" Eddie asked worriedly.

Frankie listened to Richard frantically trying to catch his breath.

"Think so." Doyle flipped open his lighter again and addressed Barrett. "Let's try not to upset Eddie, eh Sunshine?"

"Look, are ya sure 'e can breathe, Frankie? 'E don't look too good to me. Keep this up an' yer gonna kill 'im an' I don't wanna be around when the boss finds 'is dead body," said Carter.

"Oh stop worryin', fer Pete's sake, if 'e stops breathin' I'll take the bloody tape off OK? You're the one who was 'avin' a problem with the racket 'e were makin' - you should be 'appy I shut' im up." He turned back to Richard, "Shouldn't 'e Sunshine?" he said, pinching the Nemesis man's cheek.

"I really 'aint 'appy about this Frankie, if somethin' goes wrong the boss is gonna blame me too. Take the damned gag off 'im," said Eddie.

"Tell you wot, if it bothers ya that much, take a walk fer a while. If anythin' goes wrong ya can tell the boss you were in the karsie when it 'appened. 'e can't blame ya for takin' a slash can 'e?"

"I'm stayin'," Carter grunted.

"Well shut up then an' let me 'ave my bit of fun," said Doyle.

Eddie gave up trying to remonstrate with Frankie and picked up his cards again. Doyle turned back to Barrett,

"Now where were we?" he asked, with a twisted smile.

Richard was starting to panic. He had tried to hold on to the hope that Craig would arrive any minute, but the noise in his head was threatening to overwhelm him. The voice that had started out as a whisper was screaming at him now. Nobody was coming, he was never getting out of here, even if they left him alone for a moment he didn't think he'd have the strength to break free. He was relieved he didn't know the code because pretty soon he was going to start talking. At least he would try to.

He was starting to feel lightheaded. He was so exhausted he couldn't think straight. He could never quite draw enough air into his lungs. All that existed was fear and pain, and the face in front of him smiling as the man flicked the lighter on once more.

Barrett decided just to hang there. What was the point of doing anything else? Even if he could get up again it wouldn't stop. Then, despite himself, as the agony hit him again he struggled to get away from it, desperation lending him just enough strength to stand but not enough to rip the ropes from the wall. But still he tried, ignoring his lacerated wrists and chafed palms, gritting his teeth, screaming, until Frankie stepped back and Richard realised the futility of it all as the man laughed and the blood ran down his arms.

* * *

><p>"My key please," Sharron said as she arrived at the hotel reception desk.<p>

"Er..just one moment Miss, Mr King - our deputy manager - would like a word with you." the man behind the desk said, looking at her with an odd expression on his face.

"Can't it wait until morning? It's very late and I'd really like to go to my room." Sharron replied.

"I'm sorry but he said to call him the moment you got in. If you'd just like to wait over there I'm sure he won't keep you long," the man said gesturing towards a sofa near the lifts.

Sharron sighed then crossed to the sofa and sat down, hoping that the deputy manager had a message for her that would help to find Richard. As she thought of him she rubbed the painful spot on her left upper arm absentmindedly. Some time passed while she tried to think of something more that she and Craig could do to help their friend. When she glanced at her watch, she was shocked to see that she'd been waiting over 20 minutes. She was just walking towards the reception desk to ask what the problem was when a man hurried towards her.

"Ah yes, er Miss er Macready, isn't it?"

"Yes that's right," said Sharron impatiently.

"I'm the deputy manager and I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to leave. I won't have the sort of carryings-on that you've been up to in _our_ establishment. This is a respectable hotel," he said.

"Carryings-on? What on earth do you mean?"

"I wouldn't have believed it to look at you, but you never can tell by appearances. You were _seen_, " said the deputy manager.

"Seen? Seen where?"

"Seen coming out of a gentleman's bedroom. And what's more, a gentleman that you'd only just met. There's a word for women like you and it's not a pleasant one. I had a hard job calming poor Mrs. Hunter down after the shock of what she saw. She said you walked out bold as brass - absolutely brazen she said," he tutted loudly, "Unbelievable!" he finished.

Sharron sighed deeply, cursed Elizabeth Hunter under her breath, and settled down to the unavoidable task of explaining what had really happened. It took a considerable amount of time before she was able to convince the man but, at last, he pronounced himself happy to let her stay and handed over her key.

"Oh, and there's a message for you," he added a little testily.

"Thank you," Sharron replied as politely as she could. She took the proffered envelope and made her way to the lift. Once back in her room she tore it open.

It was from Tremayne. He was sending reinforcements who'd be landing in a couple of hours. She read it again. They'd never needed help before, why did he think they needed it now?

* * *

><p>Eddie dealt another hand and kept his head down. He'd only seen Frankie like this once before, when he'd discovered some bloke had been knocking his cousin around. He'd had to drag Doyle off the man, scared he'd kill him. At least the fear of their boss meant Frankie wasn't going to go that far this time, although Carter had to admit that this seemed worse. He really wished Richard would pass out, despite the trouble that might land them in. He'd thought he was about to a few minutes earlier. The Nemesis man had actually seemed to be trying to break the ropes that bound him. Eddie had been forced to look away, he couldn't face watching what Frankie was doing. But he'd still been aware of the sounds Richard was making, though that was less of a problem now. Barrett's voice had almost gone. Fortunately Carter couldn't hear what was left of it over Doyle's incessant taunting.<p>

"Wanna play a new game?"

Eddie turned over a card.

"Ya sure?" Frankie added. "Cause ya know wot it is, don't ya? Wot we've all bin waitin' for."

Carter looked up. Doyle had undone Barrett's belt and the Nemesis man was starting to panic.

"We can go back to the lighter, you just 'ave to ask."

Barrett was frantic now, breathing hard, wide eyed. His screams muffled and broken. He watched helplessly as his trousers were unbuttoned and the zip pulled half down.

"Seriously, just say the word." Doyle laughed as turned the dial on the machine. "Wot do ya think? We'll start out on one? One, or two?"

Frankie shoved the device down the front of Richard's underwear and prepared to flick the switch. Eddie looked on in horror as Barrett twisted, desperately trying to prevent the inevitable. Doyle stood back and watched.

Carter couldn't tear his eyes away. He could feel his own body tensing up just at the thought of it. He was certain Barrett would pass out.

"Ya know wot," said Doyle as he stepped forward, "ya don't seem so keen. Maybe later?"

Eddie let out the breath he was holding as Frankie pulled the device free and put it back on its hook. Richard held his head back against the wall, his eyes screwed shut. He didn't react as his tormentor started to do up his fly.

"We don't want to get Eddie too excited, eh?"

Carter realised that Doyle was looking at him as he stared open-mouthed. He looked down quickly, scooping up his cards. By the time he risked another glance Frankie was fastening Barrett's belt.

"I've bin thinkin'," Doyle said as he pulled it tight, "I'm kinda tired."

Frankie tucked his lighter into the top of Richard's trousers.

"This way, I can take the weight off my feet."

He lit it and walked away. As Eddie listened to Richard's tortured screams, muffled but still audible, Frankie pulled up a chair. Carter tried not to look, but it was hard not to see out of the corner of his eye. Barrett seemed to be trying to shake the lighter loose. It was a cruel twist that the man would have easily have been able to blow out the flame if he hadn't been gagged. Eddie was unable to look away as Barrett make one last effort only to have the zippo slip further down. As the Nemesis man's movements became more frantic, Carter felt a sudden wave of nausea hit him. He grabbed the can of beer from in front of him, stood up, hurled the contents at the flame and almost ran from the room. The lighter continued to burn for a few seconds and then flickered and went out.

"Wot the...?" said Frankie, looking in amazement after Eddie. Then his face darkened in anger and he walked over to Richard.

He snatched the lighter from Barrett's belt, and flicked it open a couple of times but it failed to ignite, he shook it.

"Damn, 'e's spoilt my fun. Well, we'll just 'ave to fall back on the other game then won't we?"

* * *

><p>Mac switched on the light in his kitchen and nearly jumped out of his skin.<p>

Standing just feet away from him was a man. Admittedly a very tall and rather good looking man, but not the man he was hoping to see all the same. Before he could react, the intruder pushed him up against the wall, holding him by his lapels.

"Now, I'm only going to ask you this once," the man said threateningly. "Where's Eddie?"

* * *

><p>"Just you and me now, shame Eddie's gonna miss it after waitin' all this time." Frankie said as he unfastened Richard's belt once more.<p>

Barrett watched as Doyle undid his trouser button again and pulled open the zip. Frankie stood back for a moment or two, studying his victim and enjoying making him sweat.

"Ya know wot?" he said, looking at his watch. "It's a pity to peak too soon. It's still early; the boss won't be back for ages yet. I think I might pace myself a bit, ya know take a bit of a break in between the games. I reckon ya can wait a bit longer for this. Sorry to disappoint ya but I think I'll 'ave myself another drag and a beer then we can play. Ya don't mind waitin' do ya?"

He cuffed Richard's crotch with the back of his hand then went to sit down, opening a can of beer and cursing as he remembered the lighter was out of action. He scrabbled in the drawer, found a box of matches and lit up. He walked back over to the Nemesis man, carrying the cigarettes and the matchbox.

"It's your fault that Eddie soaked the lighter so it don't work. I owe ya somethin' for that." he said. "I'm gonna do a bit of art work on ya."

He took a long drag on the cigarette, grabbed hold of Richard's upper arm and moved the red hot tip towards the Nemesis man's tricep.

"Now then, 'ow many 'Gs' are there in faggot?" he asked rhetorically, as he worked the cigarette systematically over his victim's skin.

Richard squirmed and tried desperately to escape the searing agony of it.

"There 'aint enough room on 'ere, I'll 'ave to finish on the other arm," Doyle said, as he moved the cigarette across Barrett's chest, making a series of tiny circular burns.

He reached Richard's other arm and continued the branding, smiling to himself as his victim tried in vain to pull his arm away from the agonising heat. At last the cigarette went out and the Nemesis man let his breath out in a long sigh. Frankie raised the matchbox, grinned nastily and lit a second cigarette, moving it towards the crook of Barrett's right elbow and enjoying his victim's fruitless attempts to get away.

"Na, I don't think I'll waste this one on ya," Doyle said and walked back to the chair.

He sat silently drinking and smoking, eyeing Barrett all the time. After a while Doyle's head started to nod forwards, he jerked it upright but it soon fell forwards again.

_'He's falling asleep,' _Richard thought. Now maybe he would get some real respite from the incessant torture. He just wished he could keep the weight off his arms but the pain in his shin and ankles was too great for him to be able to stand for long without taking some of the pressure off. After a while sheer exhaustion took over and his head started to nod forward.

* * *

><p>As Sharron drove through the city she glanced down at her map, looking for a good place to triangulate Richard's position. She neared a likely spot and began to reach out to him with her mind.<p>

* * *

><p>"Wot the 'ell d'ya think yer doin'?"<p>

Frankie's angry shout cut through the fog of sleep that had started to overtake Richard. The man was standing directly in front of him and he yanked Barrett's head up sharply by his hair.

"Well ya failed that little test didn't ya? Ya knew damn well the boss said ya was to stay awake but ya still tried to doze off, ya bastard. I weren't really goin' to sleep ya know. I just thought I'd see wot you'd do if ya thought I was. Tryin' to get me an' Eddie into trouble with the boss were ya? Well I'm really gonna make ya suffer for that." He picked up the device. "Say Barrett ya really know 'ow to annoy me don't ya? First ya beat up on my little brother, then ya won't talk so I 'ave to stay up all night babysittin'. Ya get to Eddie so 'e stops us playin' with the lighter, then I take the weight off my feet for five minutes and you decide to try and drop me in it with the boss. An' ya know somethin' else I don't like about ya? You reckon yer better than us. Ya remind me of them social workers wot told us they wanted to 'elp me an' Billy when we was kids. Said they'd find people wot could look after us proper, not like Mum an' Dad. They said all we 'ad to do was tell the beak 'ow it was for us an' they'd sort it. An' ya know wot? I found out they was gonna split me an' Billy up; put us in separate foster 'omes. So, of course we 'ad to say everythin' was fine at 'ome. Lyin' bastards, them social workers, said they'd 'elp an' all they did were make things worse, coz Mum an' Dad was mad at us after them interferin'. 'Ypocrites they was, them toffee nosed gits. An' you, yer just the same as them, think yer so great don't ya? Well you aint, an' I'm gonna show ya whose on top now." He waved the device in Richard's face.

"OK, pick a number between 1 an' 10," Frankie taunted, spinning the dial back and forth. "Ya know wot? I've only seen the boss put this where I'm gonna stick it once before. Guess what 'appened next?" he said conversationally. "No? Don't wanna guess? Well, I'll tell you, the guy passed out the second the device made contact. Funny thing were 'e was only out a couple of minutes, must 'ave bin the shock." He laughed loudly. "Shock - ya get it? Funny eh? Well anyway, when 'e came round 'e couldn't stop 'isself talkin'. We got 'is life story. The boss only 'ad it set to one. I think that for you, I'll use two to start with, just to show ya that no-one messes with my family an' gets away with it. An' now Eddie's gone I can be a bit more accurate with where I put it without worryin' about 'im getting turned on," he finished.

Frankie yanked Richard's trousers and underwear down.

"That's better, now I can see wot I'm doin'."

He looked down at what he'd exposed and gave an exaggerated sigh of disappointment.

"I must say, I thought ya'd be a bit more excited about our little game but clearly you aint. That's disappointin', Eddie would 'ave bin gutted, meat an' two veg? Almost vegetarian aint ya?"

Frankie turned the device to number two and moved it towards Richard's crotch.

"So ya ready? Ya know I can't decide where to start, meat or veg, where d'you think? Wot about I stick it between the two?" he said, suiting the action to the word.

"Ya know ya really are tiny aint you? I don't reckon even a magnifyin' glass would make much difference - we'd need a telescope."

As he spoke he turned the device over, moving it upwards slightly at the same time, all the while looking disparagingly down at his victim's crotch. Richard hardly heard the taunts, he was concentrating so hard on trying to steel himself for the oncoming agony.

"Still at least it won't be any great loss will it?" Doyle continued, "I suppose bein' small is quite an advantage for your sort anyway, given where ya put it. Mind you I 'ad you pegged for bein' the one on the receivin' end – you sure do scream like a girl, ya dirty bastard... Right I've decided, we'll start with the meat."

He turned the device to number two and held it against his victim's shaft, it was unbearable and Barrett jerked and writhed in agony, his legs gave way and he hung from his arms, momentarily oblivious to the pain in his wrists because of the far greater pain he was suffering. Then it stopped and Richard gradually became aware of Frankie's laughter.

"This is even more fun than I expected. Brings an 'ole new meanin' to the word 'shafted' don't it. Let's try the tip next shall we? Yeah, that'll be interestin'" he said, moving the device along Barret's shaft.

Richard screamed into the gag as the electricity tore through him, pulsing and pulsing, the pain increasing all the time. It was some time before he realised that Doyle had stopped holding the device against him and was waiting until he had the Nemesis man's attention once more.

"Let's start on the veg now shall we?"

Frankie moved the device very slowly towards Richard's groin, enjoying the look on his victim's face as he tried to push himself backwards through the wall to get away.

"'Ere 'old still, I aint even turned it on yet," Doyle laughed maliciously, looking down as he did.

"D'ya know yer've got a nasty bruise down there? Looks a bit like ya was 'it with a cricket ball or somethin'. Ball games can be a bit dangerous ya know, maybe ya shouldn't play them if yer gonna get 'urt. Oh silly me, wot am I sayin'? We're just about to play a ball game now aint we. Well yer'll just 'ave to put up with it then won't ya?"

Richard flinched as the device made contact with his balls. He stared mesmerised at Frankie's thumb, which was hovering above the switch on the device.

"Are ya ready?" Doyle asked, moving his thumb slightly nearer the switch. "Ya sure yer ready?...OK 'ere goes."

Richard braced himself as best he could as he watched Frankie's thumb depress the switch. He tried to stem the rising panic as he waited for the inevitable agony and he felt…nothing.

"Oooops," laughed Doyle, "must 'ave accidentally flicked the switch on the main box. It 'aint on. Sorry that must 'ave been disappointin' for ya."

He flicked the switch with his foot and pain coursed through Barrett.

* * *

><p>Just as Sharron was preparing to pull into an empty car park she was suddenly assailed by the most appalling pain she'd ever experienced. Instinctively she pushed her foot down, hard. The night air was filled with the sound of loudly protesting brakes and the car slewed sharply sideways, threatening to tip over.<p>

* * *

><p>It was even worse than Richard imagined it would be, so agonizingly painful that he couldn't even scream. His legs gave way once more as he squirmed frantically, trying desperately to move away from the electrodes, the ropes around his wrists tearing the skin more and more as he pulled on the ropes in a frenzied attempt to escape the device. He could hardly breathe and it was some time before he realised it had stopped.<p>

"Yer a lazy bastard aint ya?" Frankie remarked. "Yer just won't stand up will ya? And you aint 'alf making it 'ard for me an' all, jerkin' about like that so the machine keeps slippin' off ya. Think yer clever do ya? You wanna trick me into tryin' to 'old ya still, so I get shocked an' all is that it? Ya think I'm stupid or somethin'? Tell ya wot, I'll give ya some incentive to 'elp me out with this. You stand up straight and I'll turn on the device, if ya stay standin' up, without breakin' contact, for the count of 3 I'll turn it off. If yer an idle sod an' let yer legs sag then I'll keep puttin' it on ya til ya stand up straight again an' 'old still while I count 3. That shouldn't be too 'ard fer ya surely. Of course it goes without sayin' that if ya look like you're gonna pass out I'll stop just long enough fer ya to come back from the edge then start again. So don't go tryin' any fancy tricks to get out of playin' will ya? Now straighten them legs or I'll start without ya."

Richard forced his legs straight and tried to lock his knees, he wasn't sure he'd be able to stay in that position but he knew Frankie was in deadly earnest and he had to try. Doyle switched the device on and Barrett's whole body shook with the effort of trying to stay upright, he could feel the sweat trickling down his body as the pain assailed him. His tormentor began to count very slowly,

"1...2...did I say 2?"

Richard couldn't help buckling at the knees, the pain was so appalling. Try as he might he couldn't control the involuntary jerking in his body.

* * *

><p>Unfortunately for Craig, Mac had a lot more courage than Frankie had given him credit for.<p>

"If you think I'm going betray Eddie just to save my own skin you've got another think coming. I know all about the feuds between rival gangs like your lot and Eddie's boss's crowd and I'm not giving him away," he said.

"I'm not with a rival gang, so give," said Craig, pushing him hard up against the wall, and trying to block the telepathic pain that was emanating from Richard.

"Yeah? Then you're police, that's as bad. Eddie isn't a bad sort, he got in with the wrong crowd at school that's all. But you cops, you won't bother about that, you won't care that he wants out, you'll throw the book at him all the same. I won't betray him and that's that," said Mac, his slight Scots accent becoming more pronounced as his agitation grew.

"Look if what you say is true, I can cut him some slack, but only if you tell me where he is right now."

There was a silence while Mac mulled over Craig's offer.

* * *

><p><em><strong><span>WARNING:<span> 'The Karpov code' now carries an M rating (for violence). _**Because of this it is 'invisible' on the default Champions' fanfiction page. If you want to continue reading the story and not miss new chapters as they are published we suggest that you either subscribe to story alerts or send us a private message asking us to let you know when each new chapter is published. Alternatively you could leave a signed review for this story and we will contact you via fanfiction as we publish each new chapter. **_  
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To access the next and subsequent chapters (once they are published) either: scroll down until you see a blue drop down box on the bottom right of the page (or scroll up until you see the same drop down box on the right of the page just above the title) and click 'next' on the right of the box OR click on the down arrow to the right of the chapter number in the blue box and select the desired chapter.


	8. Chapter 8

**WARNING: EXTREME VIOLENCE AND TORTURE - RATED M for Violence  
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**A word of reassurance -We want to be as realistic as possible. However, we draw the line at permanent damage. Therefore our Champions WILL remain intact and will eventually recover from any injuries inflicted upon them.**

CHAPTER 8 - Leave...me...alone...

"This is no bloody good, damn it. There's got to be a better way of makin' ya stand straight." Frankie said as he watched Richard sag at the knees, unable to stay upright as the shocks from the device tore through him. He paused and thought for a moment. "Ah yes - I know wot to do," he said.

He placed the device between Barrett's legs at knee level and waited until his victim looked down to see what he was doing. Then he moved the device very slowly upwards, grinning maliciously all the time. As it moved inexorably closer to his groin Richard was forced onto his toes in order to avoid the instrument making contact with his skin. He leant heavily against the wall behind him for support.

"Damn you! Yer'd win awards fer laziness wouldn't ya? Slouchin' on the wall like that, wot's the matter with ya? Well I'll soon take care of that little dodge," Frankie said angrily.

He walked over to the pile of rubble in the corner and rummaged about a bit. With a triumphant yell he held up a piece of wood with a couple of nails sticking out of it. Richard's mind registered that it was probably part of the same broken piece of furniture that Johnson had hit him with. Doyle walked back to his victim and waved the wood in his face.

"Now yer gonna show me 'ow good ya are at standin' up straight aint ya? Get off the bloody wall!" Frankie said.

He drew the piece of wood back ready to strike and Richard forced himself upright.

"That's better, but ya should do wot yer told before I 'ave to make ya. Ya need teachin' that don't ya?" Doyle said viciously. Then he bent down and hit Barrett's leg with the wood.

Richard gasped as it connected with his bruised shin. He felt warm blood trickling down his leg.

"Now I'm gonna make sure ya don't go slouchin' again the minute I take my eyes off ya," Frankie said.

He walked over the desk and removed a ball of string from the drawer. He cut two pieces from it and deftly attached one to each of the nails protruding from the wood. Returning to where Richard stood, Doyle placed the makeshift weapon between his victim and the wall and threaded the strings through the loops that anchored Barrett. He adjusted the length of the string until the wood and nails hung where Richard's back had made contact with the wall. Then he stood back and placed his hand on his victim's chest and gave him a hard push with all his weight behind it. Barrett screamed into the gag as the sharp nails dug into his body, then the pressure on his chest eased and he straightened up, gasping for breath. Doyle immediately pushed him back onto the nails with one hand, at the same time using his other to deliver a stinging, open handed slap to his victim's cheek. The shock of it made Richard's eyes water.

"That 'urt did it? Wot a shame," Frankie said, releasing the pressure on his victim's chest and studying the Nemesis man's face as he watched him struggle upright once more.

"Aint crying are ya Barrett? Them look a lot like tears to me. Think turnin' on the waterworks might make me go soft on ya do yer? Well you got another think comin'. Doug told me that you 'ad Billy sobbin' an' you never showed _'im_no mercy did ya? No yer didn't, yer creep. I 'eard wot ya did to 'im. You was so rough with 'im that 'e were on the floor in agony and then, ya bastard, you 'it 'im again - so 'ard that 'e were out cold. So ya can forget any idea that yer'll get me to give ya an easy time, cause no-one touches my brother an' gets away with it … ever... you got that?" He paused for a moment then slapped Richard's face again, leaving a livid red hand mark on the Nemesis man's cheek.

"Right then, now ya know why it aint a good idea to get lazy don't yer? Just to make sure ya really get it though I'm gonna make ya do another endurance test. It was a lotta fun watchin' ya 'angin' there takin' yer weight on them arms earlier on. This time we'll see 'ow strong them legs is," Frankie said.

He picked up the device and held it at the level of his victim's knees again then slowly moved it upwards forcing Richard back onto his toes once more.

"That's right." Doyle laughed. He held the device steady just below Barrett's groin. "Now all ya 'ave to do is 'old that position. I'm sure yer up to that, with all the rest you've been 'avin' leanin' against the wall. If ya decide ya can't be bothered to stay upright that's fine with me just come off yer toes, you'll find it electrifyin'," Frankie said and roared with laughter.

Richard stood on tiptoe trying not to lose his balance as the pain in his legs intensified. His toes and calves ached abominably but that was nothing to the torment caused by his damaged ankle and shin. He swayed slightly as he tried to stop himself from falling backwards onto the nails behind him.

"Ya know somethin? I don't see I should suffer just coz of _your_laziness," Frankie said. "It's makin' my arm ache tryin' hold this thing still and I've got a little idea about wot to do ter make it easier fer miself. You just be a bit patient like while I set it up - and don't you dare come down off them toes while I'm busy or I shall 'ave to zap ya on five, just to show ya who's in charge 'ere."

He walked over to the desk, picked up the roll of tape, and carried one of the chairs over to where Richard was anchored. He turned it round so that the back of the seat was facing his victim. Then he positioned the device between Barrett's legs, pointing towards the wall, and taped it to the back of the chair at right angles to it so that, if Richard came down off his toes, the device couldn't fail to make contact with his skin. Frankie walked back to the other chair and sat down to wait for his victim's legs to buckle under the strain. The pain in Richard's ankle was almost unbearable now and his legs were beginning to shake. He fell backwards onto the nails and bit back a yell of pain as he tried to force himself back upright. He overbalanced, came down off his toes, and his balls made contact with the electrodes. He cried out in agony and desperately forced himself back onto his toes, swaying as he tried to ignore the searing pain shooting through his ankle. Finally he managed to regain his balance but he knew it was inevitable that he'd have to repeat the whole process again and again at increasingly shorter intervals as he grew steadily weaker. Frankie waited until Richard was standing reasonably steadily then he spoke,

"Ya know somethin' Barrett? That weren't bad - amazin' wot even an idle sod like you can do when there's enough of an incentive aint it? It were a lot of fun watchin' ya flailin' about tryin' stop yerself fallin' back onto them nails and it were even more fun when ya landed on the zapper, yer face were a picture then - shockin' it were. I'd 'ate to 'ave to wait too long to see that again so 'ow about I make it a bit 'arder fer ya to keep on yer toes? Football were never my game but I'm sure I can find some use for all that practice I 'ad to do in school."

Frankie stood up and Richard barely managed to keep his balance as Doyle kicked his damaged shin hard. Then Frankie turned his attention to his victim's left ankle, kicking it over and over again, starting off fairly gently, just enough to hurt but not enough to make the joint give way. Then gradually increasing the force of each blow until Barrett couldn't withstand the pain any longer and he lost his balance and fell onto the device. Doyle's laughter rang in his ears as Richard forced himself upright again scraping his back against the nails behind him as he did so. He soon forgot the pain in his back as his torturer straddled the chair in front of the Nemesis man and resumed his assault, pushing his foot against his victim's ankle, while at the same time he put his other foot on Barrett's bruised shin and steadily applied pressure. The pain was excruciating and Richard was unable to stay on his toes.

* * *

><p>Sharron was bent double, her hands gripping the steering wheel, knuckles white, totally unaware of how perilously close the car had come to flipping over. It had skidded along on two wheels for about 100 yards before finally righting itself and coming to a halt. As the agony spread through her body Sharron struggled even to breathe, taking in air with short sharp gasps. It seemed to last forever, building all the time. Her stomach churned and she feared she was about to throw up. As she felt consciousness slipping away from her again, she realised she had to try and dissociate herself from these sensations. She just couldn't seem to gather her wits enough to think of a way to keep her distance mentally from her colleague while, at the same time, getting a fix on his location.<p>

* * *

><p>This time when Richard fell onto the device he couldn't summon up the energy to force himself back onto his toes. The best he could manage was to straighten up a little, briefly breaking contact with the electrodes, then his legs gave way and he landed back on the device again. The agony lent him just enough strength to repeat the process. Over the sound of buzz of electricity and Frankie's gleeful laughter his mind was yelling at him to get back on his toes, lean against the wall, do anything... anything at all to stop the pain that kept pulsing and pulsing through him every time he fell back onto the device. But the signals his frantic brain was sending didn't seem to be able to get through and his muscles refused to obey properly. No matter how hard he tried, he just couldn't move himself away from the electrodes for more than a couple of seconds at a time. He heard himself screaming into the gag,<p>

"Make it stop, make it stop, please, make it stop".

And then the agony lessened a little, it didn't stop completely and he was vaguely aware of the current coursing through his tender flesh. But the cellar and Frankie's laughter seemed to be receding and he started to feel detached from the pain. Doyle's face appeared to be a long way off, getting further and further away as Richard tried to focus. Then everything began to go black.

* * *

><p>Slowly Sharron became aware of her surroundings again. With some difficulty she released her grip on the steering wheel and sat back in her seat, still trying to catch her breath. She could guess the cause of the telepathic pain she was suffering – it was something she had never thought she'd experience - and was more worried for Richard than she had been at any point since she learned of his capture. She could only hope that he would lose consciousness soon, both for his own sake and also because it was impossible for her to locate him if this continued.<p>

* * *

><p>"Oh ya stupid sod don't you dare pass out." Frankie jumped off the chair and flung it to one side, then he pulled Richard's head up and was relieved to see he was still conscious.<p>

"Don't think yer've got away with it Sunshine, soon as yer ready we'll start again, " he snapped angrily.

All too soon it became clear that Barrett was no longer in imminent danger of passing out and Frankie prepared to resume the torture. Richard watched helplessly as his tormentor picked up the chair. He was actually glad of the gag because of the shame he felt at being reduced to begging, in a pointless effort to get Doyle to stop. He was incredibly relieved that Frankie hadn't been able to hear his despairing pleas for mercy.

"Right let's start again shall we? Get up on them toes!" Doyle commanded.

Richard forced himself back on tiptoe while Frankie pushed the chair back into position. It wasn't long before Barrett's whole body was shaking. He'd already done everything he could to keep his legs from sagging, and he couldn't prevent his balls from making contact with the device once more as his legs finally buckled under the strain. As the pain lanced through him he swallowed convulsively, causing part of the shirt sleeve filling his mouth to slip down his throat, and he began to choke. His lungs laboured desperately to draw in air, his head swam and his whole body started to jerk uncontrollably.

"Shit," said Doyle, hurling the chair to one side. He frantically tore the strip of tape from Barrett's mouth and began pulling the sleeve out as fast as he could.

His throat finally clear, Richard hung gasping for breath. He realised that now was probably the only chance he'd get to stop Frankie tormenting him. He knew what he had to do but he was less certain that he would succeed. He'd only tried this particular skill a few times, and although it had been successful he couldn't be sure it would work this time. He hadn't been able to try it earlier because he knew it was only likely to succeed if one of his captors was alone with him. He was also aware that he'd need to be able to articulate a few words and he wasn't sure if he still had the power of speech. He'd have to pick his words very carefully.

"Yer goin' to 'ave to pay for makin' me take the gag out an' coz you failed the endurance test," Frankie said as he detached the device from the chair. He turned the dial up. "We'll see 'ow ya like bein' zapped on number three, an' this time I'm not gonna give ya a chance to avoid it. I'm gonna make sure ya get the full treatment straight away, right?"

Doyle walked over to the desk and picked up the tape.

"I'm a bit disappointed ya know – it were fun watchin' ya tryin' to keep yerself off the zapper but I were gettin' a bit fed up with ya takin' yer time. It were borin' waitin' for ya to collapse, so I'm just gonna 'ave to make sure I don't 'ave to wait aint I?"

Frankie used the tape to attach the device to Richard's body, ensuring there was a good contact between his victim's balls and the electrodes, then he stood back, his foot poised above the switch on the box.

"Ready Sunshine?" he asked, forcing Barrett's head up so he could enjoy seeing the fear in the Nemesis man's eyes.

Richard inhaled as deeply as he could, in readiness for the action he needed to take, knowing that this could be the only chance he was likely to get to carry out his desperate plan. Frankie was stunned that, instead of fear, he was met with an ice-blue stare. He gazed back, unable to tear his eyes away. Barrett continued to look deep into Doyle's eyes as he marshalled his forces to get the words out.

"Leave...me...alone..." began Richard, and then his voice failed. He tried desperately to force himself to articulate 'untie me' but could not get the words out.

He continued to fix Doyle with a hypnotic gaze as the man backed away slowly. Barrett was almost in tears of frustration as he tried over and over to speak.

_'Just two words,' _he thought, '_two words.' _But it was no good, he could say no more.

Frankie sat down heavily on the chair, and looked away from Richard, who continued his attempts to speak. He was still trying unsuccessfully ten minutes later when Eddie returned.

Carter had made it to the door twice already but had been unable to force himself to enter the room. He'd been terrified at what he might find. He bitterly regretted fleeing the room and leaving Barrett alone with Frankie but he had been unable to bear watching any longer. He'd just _had_ to get away. He'd barely made it out of the room before he'd thrown up suddenly and violently. He'd spent the next few minutes leaning against the door for support and contemplating the horror of the situation he found himself in. His mind kept going round and round, desperately seeking a way out.

Finally he'd fetched cleaning materials and mopped up the vomit then stepped outside the building for a few moments, lighting a cigarette and smoking it mechanically. As soon as he'd finished he walked back indoors and headed towards the door of the room that held Barrett. He'd pulled up short just outside, listening for any sounds, he could hear Frankie's voice faintly through the thick door and the distant sound of Richard's screams. He couldn't bring himself to go in and, cursing his cowardice, went back outside for a second cigarette. Once he'd finished he walked back to the door again, this time he could hear nothing and was so disturbed by the possible implications that he scuttled back outside the building and paced up and down there wondering how he was ever going to force himself back into the cellar. Eventually his fear of what the boss would do to him if Frankie had killed Barrett while he, Eddie, was out of the room motivated him to at least find out what might have happened. With great trepidation he returned to the door, paused momentarily, then squared his shoulders and walked into the room.

Once inside, Carter looked from Doyle to Barrett then back again in disbelief. He had no idea what had happened and wondered what Frankie was up to. He toyed with the idea of asking what was going on but decided that, as his colleague appeared to be allowing the Nemesis man some respite - although it was sure to be part of an elaborate plan to make Barrett suffer more later, he had better keep silent for now. He sat down next to Frankie and dealt them both a hand of cards. Doyle picked his up and started playing as if he'd forgotten Richard was there. Carter tried not to look in the Nemesis man's direction, he found the whole situation unnerving and his frame of mind wasn't helped by the fact that Barrett's trousers were around his ankles and the device was taped to him. Despite his best efforts Eddie was finding it hard to stop himself glancing in the direction of Richard's crotch. He longed to walk over and remove the device and replace Barrett's clothing but he decided, for the time being, it would be prudent to sit tight and just play cards and see how things panned out.

* * *

><p>At last, after what seemed like hours, Sharron got the pain under control enough for her to risk reaching out to Richard once more. It wasn't an easy task. She had to try and block the empathetic pain just enough to allow her to concentrate. At the same time she was all too aware that if she blocked it too well she wouldn't be able to get a sense of the direction that the waves of agony and distress were emanating from. After some time she was successful. She took out the map and collated all the evidence she had so far.<p>

* * *

><p>"Besides," Craig added trying to ignore the pain in his groin that was threatening to overwhelm him, "I'm not after your friend, I'm after his boss."<p>

"His boss?" Mac asked thoughtfully.

"Do you know him?"

"Sure, everybody does round here. Don't know his name though, not his real one at any rate."

"You sound like you're not a fan," said Stirling.

"If he ever finds out I ratted on him I'm dead, so's Eddie."

"He won't."

Craig momentarily closed his eyes in an attempt to shut out the telepathic pain that could only be emanating from Richard.

"You'll never get him," Mac added.

"You'd be surprised."

Mac paused for a moment. If this man could really get rid of Eddie's boss then that solved a lot of problems and, for some reason, he had confidence that he could.

"It's an abandoned warehouse over in Battersea."

"You got a car?" Craig asked, swallowing hard and mentally cursing the link with Richard.

Mac nodded warily.

"Then you're driving, what's the address?"

"I'm not sure of the number but it's in St John's Road."

"What car you got?"

"Mini - pale blue," Mac replied.

"Registration number?"

"787 BHO"

"Right. Now I need your phone," Craig said walking over to it. The pain was subsiding now but that only increased the American's concern for his friend. Would they get to Richard in time?

"Fine, I'll just use the bathroom before we go," Mac said heading across the room.

Craig looked up, momentarily suspicious, then he realised that, due to the location of the room he was in, Mac wouldn't be able to sneak out without him knowing. Reassured on this point Stirling picked up the receiver, dialled the number of the hotel and asked to be put through to Sharron. After he'd listened to it ring for what seemed an age the switchboard operator came on the line and told him that the lady wasn't picking up her phone.

Craig cradled the receiver and decided to try a different approach. He stared hard at the telephone dial, visualising the number clearly in his mind and concentrating on transmitting it to Sharron. After a few minutes it rang.

"Hello Craig." Stirling heard Sharron say as he put the receiver to his ear. "I've got a fix on Richard, he's somewhere between Altenburg Gardens and St John's Hill, Bat...".

"...tersea," Craig cut in. "I've got a location from Mac, sounds like he told me the truth, because he said that Richard's in a warehouse in St John's Road, which is more or less slap bang in the middle of those two streets you mentioned. We'll meet you there. Mac's going to drive me, he has a pale blue mini, 787 BHO, you got that?" Craig said.

"Yes, see you soon," Sharron replied and hung up.

* * *

><p>The card game finished and Eddie picked up the cards.<p>

"You want another game?" he asked.

"No, I'm too tired to concentrate properly. I'll just sit here and have another beer. Do you want one?" said Frankie.

"Yeah, sure crack open another one for me."

Carter cast a puzzled glance at Doyle then looked across at Richard and back to his colleague again. He wondered what the hell had happened while he was out of the room and what Frankie was up to now. More than anything he wanted to go over and sort Barrett's clothing out but he was afraid of what his colleague might say or do. He stood up in an exaggeratedly casual manner and slowly edged his way across the room towards Richard, casting sideways glances at Frankie as he went. Doyle made no attempt to stop him and, emboldened by this fact, Eddie became confident enough to have a go at pulling Barrett's trousers up for him.

Richard watched Carter's approach and prepared himself to attempt to use the same trick on him as he had on Doyle. He hadn't been able to use it earlier when Frankie had been out cold because, try as he might, he'd not managed to get Eddie to make eye contact. Barrett had been waiting for this opportunity from the moment that Carter had returned to the room. The fact that the man had obviously been trying to ignore his presence ever since he came back had been incredibly frustrating for the Nemesis man. He'd made several attempts to get Carter's attention but the man had seemed determined to pretend Barrett wasn't there.

Richard had become increasingly desperate as the time went on. Despite the terrible pain he was in he couldn't help feeling humiliated at having to stand there with his clothing around his ankles. Being constantly aware of the electrodes touching his balls did nothing for his peace of mind either. He kept expecting the boss to walk in at any moment and resume the torture where Frankie had left off.

Just when he was beginning to despair of ever getting Eddie to acknowledge his presence the man got up and, at last, the chance to get himself out of this mess that Richard had been waiting for looked set to materialise. He wasn't confident that he'd be able to articulate well enough to hypnotise Carter into releasing him but he had nothing to lose by trying, but first he had to get the man to make eye contact with him.

Unfortunately for Richard this was the one thing Eddie was desperate to avoid. Frankie's earlier suggestion that he fancied the Nemesis man was playing on his mind and he was terribly embarrassed by the situation he found himself in. He couldn't replace Barrett's trousers without removing the device and he was having a hard time detaching it. It didn't help matters that he was trying not to look at what he was doing for fear of Doyle laughing at him and saying that he was getting a thrill out of seeing Richard's naked body. He'd already suffered a bad few moments when he'd felt drawn to glance at Barrett's crotch and had been unable to drag his eyes away from the damage for what seemed an age. He knew it must have hurt like hell and he'd been surprised Barrett was still conscious given the state his balls were in. What he couldn't understand was why Frankie had stopped and why he wasn't showing any interest at all in torturing Richard further. It made no sense to Eddie. He wasn't about to draw attention to it by asking questions though, he was just relieved he wasn't having to listen to his colleague's taunts and Barrett's screams any more.

Richard was concentrating so hard on watching what Eddie was doing, ready to take his chance when it came, that he momentarily forgot the wood behind him and sagged heavily against the wall. The nails dug deeply into his back and he jerked upright with a small yelp of distress, screwing up his eyes against the pain. Carter looked up in surprise and gasped with horror when he saw what Doyle had devised to increase Barrett's suffering. By the time the Nemesis man opened his eyes Eddie was at the desk taking a pair of scissors from the drawer.

_'One chance lost,' _Richard thought despairingly.

Carter crossed the room, cut the string and hurled the wood onto the floor, appalled at the level of sadism Doyle had reached. In that moment he decided that he had to do something to help the Nemesis man. The only problem was that he was terrified of what the boss would do if he were crossed. This was just too much though, he couldn't stand by and watch Barrett suffer any more. He wished he had the nerve to break him out but knew he'd never find the courage to take that course of action.

He briefly wondered whether he should put another call through to Mac and suggest he drop a hint to one of Barrett's colleagues about where he was. But he was afraid that the risk of the leak being traced back to them was too high and he had no desire to pay for his sudden burst of compassion by getting similar treatment to that which Richard had been put through. Cursing his own cowardice, he did the only thing he felt he could do without putting his own life in jeopardy. He cast a brief glance at Doyle then, without looking directly at Barrett, whispered,

"It's OK, I aint gonna let Frankie touch ya again. Try and get some kip if you can. I'll keep 'im off yer one way or another."

Then he returned to extricating Richard from the device. After what seemed an age, Eddie's fumbling fingers managed to detach the machine and he bent down to replace Barrett's underwear and trousers. Richard tried to fight down the panic as he felt his chance to get himself free slipping away. In a desperate attempt to get Eddie to meet his eyes he cleared his throat as loudly as he could manage. His attempt failed. Carter was just too embarrassed about the situation to look up. He rapidly fastened Barrett's trousers and walked back to his chair, his face crimson and his heart beating fast as he wondered what his colleague would do now. Frankie continued to drink his beer as if nothing had happened and Eddie's relief was tempered with disquiet, the situation seemed surreal and it was unnerving him considerably.

Now that he knew his chance was gone, the despair that Richard felt threatened to overwhelm him. If only he wasn't so exhausted he could have tried to break the ropes. If only he'd been left alone with just one of his guards sooner he would have had strength enough to hypnotise them into setting him free. If only he'd been able to get Eddie to make eye contact whilst Doyle had been unconscious. If only...if only...but now it was too late and soon the boss would be back and there'd be more torture, more agony and he'd be totally helpless. He didn't think he could take any more but these people didn't care about that. They'd continue to inflict pain on him until he talked, which he couldn't do because he simply didn't have the information they wanted, or until he was dead. And he had to admit that the idea of death seemed almost inviting now.

There'd be no more humiliation, no more pain, no more fear. It would all stop...all be over. Richard's head sagged forward as the negative thoughts filled his mind. He shook his head impatiently, he couldn't give up now. To do that would make all his suffering pointless. If he'd just confessed that he didn't have the information right at the start he'd be dead now and none of this would have happened. He _wouldn't _wish he were dead, he mustn't. To do so would be a dreadful insult to the people in Tibet who had done so much for him. But how much longer could he hold out? He was in so much pain already and it would only get worse when the boss returned, he knew that. And he was tired...so very tired...

* * *

><p>Sharron pulled up in a side street. She got out and walked over to the Mini. Stirling got out of the passenger side.<p>

"You stay where you are," he said to Mac before walking round to the back of the car.

"It's just round the corner," he said to Sharron. "Mac has no idea how many men will be in there, but at least one of them will be this Eddie guy."

"What if it's a set up?"

"I've thought about that."

Craig walked to the driver's side door and opened it.

"Sorry about this, but we can't have you double crossing us."

"But, I..."

Mac didn't complete his sentence. The Nemesis man punched him in the jaw and he slumped on to the steering wheel.

Craig turned to Sharron, a slightly apologetic look on his face.

"Let's go."

* * *

><p>Eddie sat by the desk, casting sidelong glances at Frankie, expecting that at any moment he would stop acting so strangely and attempt to get back to torturing his victim. Carter was determined to keep his promise to Barrett and keep his colleague away but, all the same, he wasn't looking forward to crossing Doyle again. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the Nemesis man's head drop and then jerk back up. '<em>The poor bastard must be exhausted<em>,' Carter thought, '_he's been doing that for a while now.'_

But he supposed Barrett couldn't hang from his arms anymore, his palms and wrists were such a mess. It made Eddie feel a bit sick. Sure, he had no objection to hitting someone, when ordered to, but this was making him feel ill and the guilt he felt at letting it go on wasn't helping his frame of mind either. He jumped as Barrett dropped suddenly. The Nemesis man made a gut wrenching sound and then fell silent, hanging limply. Eddie supposed he'd finally passed out. He looked over at Frankie. He didn't seem to have noticed. Hoping to distract him he took the deck and shuffled.

"Pick a card."

* * *

><p><em><strong><strong>__**WARNING: 'The Karpov code' now carries an M rating (for violence). _**Because of this it is 'invisible' on the default Champions' fanfiction page. If you want to continue reading the story and not miss new chapters as they are published we suggest that you either subscribe to story alerts or send us a private message asking us to let you know when each new chapter is published. Alternatively you could leave a signed review for this story and we will contact you via fanfiction as we publish each new chapter. **_  
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	9. Chapter 9

CHAPTER 9 - I don't think you have any concept of how angry I am right now.

Craig poked his head up and looked through the window of the disused warehouse that Mac had led them to. With his superior vision, he could see a man who appeared to be asleep on a camp bed. There was no-one else in the room. Stirling signalled Sharron to stay where she was and he silently crept towards the door. As quietly as possible he opened it and sneaked inside. The man on the bed hadn't stirred. The American quickly scanned the entrance before padding towards the sleeping thug. Fortunately the floor was concrete so he didn't make a sound. Stirling knocked the man unconscious and caught him before he hit the floor. Using the pair of handcuffs he'd found at Eddie's place he pulled the man's arm towards a heating pipe and secured him to it.

"OK, Sharron," Craig whispered and moments later she joined him.

"I'm guessing Richard's through there," Stirling added, pointing to the door beside which the man had been sitting.

Craig listened intently but heard nothing. He tried the handle very slowly. If it wasn't locked he'd prefer to crack it open to take a look rather than smash his way through. He was immediately relieved he'd made that decision. Right behind the door was a flight of stairs leading down. He let out the breath he'd been holding and proceeded down to the cellar. The stairs were old and made of wood. Every step creaked. To Stirling's sensitive ears the sound was so loud he fully expected to be confronted by a gang of thugs at any moment. He was torn between the urge to hurry to get Richard out of there and the need for quiet. Three steps to go. Two. As he put his weight on the final step he flattened himself against the wall and craned his head around the corner. Behind him Sharron waited, perfectly still. In front of him stretched a corridor. There were several doors leading off it. He had no alternative but to try them all.

Cautiously he stepped up to the first one and put his hand on the handle. It was locked and he could hear no sound coming from the other side. If he risked bursting though and Richard wasn't in there he would alert anyone who was down here. As he considered trying the other doors first the decision was made for him. Craig's head jerked up as he heard a toilet flush somewhere down the corridor. Without a second thought he and Sharron ran towards the sound. Just as they reached the source of the noise a door opened and a man emerged doing up his flies. He froze for a moment, mouth open. Before the thug had a chance to call out a warning to anyone else who might be nearby, Stirling grabbed him by the neck and forced him face first into the opposite wall, his arm twisted behind his back.

"Where's Barrett?" Craig hissed into his ear.

The man appeared to be too stunned to talk. Stirling pulled his arm further up his back, causing the man to nod his head rapidly towards a door to his right.

"Is anybody else in there?"

"Yeah, yeah, just one guy," the man croaked.

"What's your name?"

The man didn't answer immediately so Craig applied more pressure.

"Eddie, Eddie Carter...take it easy," the man gasped out.

"And the other guy?"

"Frankie Doyle."

Stirling repressed a shudder as he remembered the treatment _he'd_ suffered at Doyle's hands. The fact that Frankie was involved explained why the telepathic pain Richard had transmitted had been so agonising.

"Well, Carter, we're going through that door and, if you try anything, I'll break your arm. You understand," he said.

Eddie nodded frantically.

Sharron stepped to the door and put her hand on the handle as Stirling manoeuvered Carter in front of him. Slowly she opened it. As she did so, Craig could see Doyle sitting on a chair drinking a beer, his feet propped up on a table. They entered and Frankie looked up. It took a moment for him to process what he was seeing. As soon as he did he jumped up.

"Don't move!" Craig and Eddie said simultaneously.

Frankie froze, seeing Stirling's arm round Carter's neck.

"Sit down!" Craig ordered.

Doyle obliged. Stirling shoved Carter onto the chair next to his colleague and gave him a karate chop to the neck, causing him to slump down almost unconscious. At the same moment Frankie took a swing at the American. Craig turned rapidly and, blocking the blow, he punched the man in the stomach. Doyle dropped to his knees, gasping for breath. Only when he was sure both guards were incapacitated did Stirling turned to look for Barrett. Sharron was already at the opposite wall. She was cradling Richard's head in her hands, speaking to him softly. It took a moment for Craig to take it all in. Every inch of his friend was black, blue or bleeding. His head hung down, and he was completely unresponsive. For a moment the American was filled with panic, then anger.

"If either of you two so much as move I'll kill you," he hissed over his shoulder.

Not trusting himself to look at them he strode straight over to his friend, handed Sharron his penknife and hooked his arms under Richard's. As gently as he could he lifted him up. As he did so he felt his friend tense, then he felt fear.

"It's okay Richard, it's me. It's Craig."

As Sharron cut the rope binding his hands Barrett's head fell forward on to Stirling's shoulder. Sharron knelt down, hacking at the ropes at his feet. Craig could feel Richard breathing hard against his neck, his arms hanging limply by his side. By the time Sharron had cut through the final rope Barrett was shaking uncontrollably.

"It's OK, it's OK..." Craig repeated into his ear. "Get a chair Sharron," he added as he held his friend. When he heard the scrape of chair legs Stirling swung his colleague round and gently eased him down. Richard slumped into the chair, his head falling backwards, his eyes closed. He gasped and jerked upright before sagging forwards, almost falling onto the floor.

"What the..?" Craig began. Then he noticed the scars on his friend's back. He glanced at the wall where his colleague had been anchored and, failing to see anything that could have caused the indentations, he scanned the room rapidly. He spotted the piece of wood that Frankie had used and was filled with rage. For a few seconds all he wanted to do was pick it up and use it to beat the living daylights out of Doyle. He'd actually taken a step towards it when Sharron's voice cut into his thoughts, reminding him that tending to Richard was their priority right now.

"Get him a drink," she said, rolling up what was left of Barrett's shirt together with his jacket, placing them behind him so as to cushion his back a little, and gently easing him backwards so that he was leaning against the make-shift pillow. Craig turned towards the two men. Carter was staring at them in shock, Doyle was still on his hands and knees.

Eddie turned his body towards the table behind him. Thinking he was going for a weapon Craig rushed at him, grabbing him by the neck again. Carter flailed, then said,

"Fill this for 'im." He shoved an empty bottle into Stirling's face and nodded towards the basin in the corner of the room.

It took a moment to sink in. Gradually the American released his grip. Without a word he snatched the bottle from Eddie's hand. He filled it quickly and returned to Richard.

His friend was coming round again, still shaking, trying hard to speak. Stirling held the bottle to Barrett's lips and watched as he downed half of it, pausing frequently to catch his breath.

"Craig, stop," Sharron said, taking the bottle from the American. "He'll be sick."

Stirling turned to Sharron.

"Look after him," he said gesturing towards Richard.

He strode over to Doyle and pulled him upright, yanking his arm up behind his back.

"Who else is here?" he asked through gritted teeth.

Frankie back-heeled, managed to break loose from Craig, and went for him with fists flailing.

All eyes were on the battle between Doyle and Stirling. Richard groaned and his right foot slid backwards and made contact with something under his chair. As he realised what it was, a sudden surge of anger lent him strength almost equal to normal. He bent down and picked up the object then, grasping the back of the chair with one hand, he pulled himself up to a standing position.

At the same moment Frankie twisted away from Craig and turned towards Sharron, who had started to move towards the two fighting men. Doyle's intention was to rush Sharron and use her as a shield while he got out of the room, but he never made it. He suddenly gave an inhuman scream and fell to the floor, wailing like a banshee and clutching his groin.

Craig and Sharron were momentarily paralysed with astonishment, staring at Doyle as if they couldn't believe their eyes.

Eddie looked on in amazement as Frankie continued to scream and roll around as he were in agony. Then he saw the cricket ball roll across the room. He looked towards Richard and guessed what had happened. He felt a twinge of second hand satisfaction as he realised that the Nemesis man had got a little revenge, then he leapt to his feet and ran to Barrett just in time to catch him as he collapsed in a dead faint. Craig immediately stepped forward to help Carter.

"Better put him on the floor," said Sharron.

The two men gently lowered Richard while Sharron knelt and started rummaging around in her bag. Eddie backed away and sat down again. Finally Sharron found what she was looking for.

"Hold his left arm up, Craig," Sharron said as she leant Barrett's right arm on her knee. Stirling watched as she first applied alcohol and then bandages to their friend's lacerated skin. It was taking all his will power not to abandon her and start adding to Doyle's pain but Richard was bleeding badly now that his arms were down. Craig looked over at Sharron. Outwardly she seemed very calm and collected but he knew that, in reality, she wasn't. The mixture of concern and anger she felt was adding to his own cocktail of emotions. She finished the right wrist and moved on to the left.

"Is 'e okay?" asked Carter.

Craig turned to Eddie, a surge of anger running through him.

"I didn't do that," Carter said hurriedly as he saw the American's murderous expression. "I swear!"

"He'll be fine," Sharron replied, as much for Craig's benefit as for Eddie's.

Sharron looked back at Richard's stomach. She was worried about internal bleeding so began pressing on her friend's stomach for any of the tell-tale signs. It was impossible to avoid touching the bruising, but she did her best to stay clear of the burns. As she checked his diaphragm Barrett suddenly jerked up, eyes wide.

"Sorry," Sharron said. "Richard, calm down... it's me," she added as she waited for him to relax.

After a minute or so she continued. She moved her hand down the left side of his abdomen. Without meaning to, her hand pushed against his belt. Immediately Richard grabbed her arm tight, pulling it away. He was breathing hard, staring at the ceiling with a look of fear in his eyes. She looked over at Craig who shook his head imperceptibly.

"I'm just going to have a look at your arm if that's all right," she said as she put her hand over his.

Richard nodded, relaxed his grip and closed his eyes.

Eddie watched Sharron for a moment or two wondering if he should say anything about Barrett's hidden injuries. He made up his mind at last and raised his voice slightly to be heard above the sound of Frankie's still audible wails of pain.

"You might like to take a look at 'is right shin and thigh, 'is other ankle an' er... an' er... his er... um... er..." He faltered and swallowed hard. "Dammit you need to check out 'is balls too," he finally blurted out.

Carter quailed as Stirling advanced on him with a furious look on his face.

"You might not have inflicted the injuries yourself, but you sat there and let it happen. My God I could kill you," Craig said through gritted teeth.

"I tried," Eddie babbled as Stirling grabbed him by the shirt and tipped his chair backwards into the table, "I let 'im 'ave some kip, an' a beer..."

"That's real big of you," growled the American.

"Craig," Sharron shouted. "Craig, will you get that water. _Craig_!"

Stirling stopped himself hitting the man with some difficulty. Instead he shoved Eddie backwards, sending him crashing to the floor, and retrieved the bottle. Sharron held Richard's head as he gulped it down. Then Barrett pulled his mouth away.

"What time is it?" he asked, his voice barely audible.

Craig looked at his watch. "Six twenty" he replied.

Richard swallowed hard and attempted to speak again, but nothing came out.

"Stop talking for Pete's sake," said Stirling.

Barrett shook his head and mouthed, _'The boss will be back soon.'_

Craig turned to Eddie who was still on the floor.

"When's your boss due back?"

"I don't know. 'E said in the morning."

"What's his name?"

"I don't know. Seriously," he continued, his hands up in surrender, "I don't know."

"Richard," Sharron said, "I need to check out your legs and that means I have to take your trousers off."

Barrett shook his head and put his hand over his belt to stop her.

_'No,' _he mouthed, _'No time - boss.'_

Sharron turned to Craig,

"We need to decide what to do. I don't think Richard should be here when the boss gets back," she said.

"I don't see we have a lot of choices here, Sharron. We can't risk carrying Richard out between us, what if we meet the boss on the stairs?" replied Craig.

"Can you walk?" Sharron asked Richard.

"Don't know," he croaked.

Barrett reached down and pulled his right trouser leg up. Sharron kept her face calm and moved down towards his battered shin. She was just about to check it out when the door burst open. The racket that Frankie was making had made it impossible for the agents to hear anyone approaching and they'd been so wrapped up in tending to Barrett that they'd failed to realise the implications of that. They were taken completely by surprise.

Richard jumped violently, Craig leaped up, prepared for a fight. Both of them stared at the man who hurtled through the door.

"Eddie, are you all right?" Mac said as he hauled his friend to his feet.

"Yeah, yeah."

Angrily Mac turned towards Craig.

"I thought you said..." he stopped abruptly, his eyes fixed on Richard. "Christ!" He paled visibly.

"Mac, I told you never to come down 'ere," Eddie said quietly.

Mac shook his head slowly. Carter put his hand on his arm but he shook it off.

"I didn't do this," Eddie continued.

"I don't care," the Scotsman replied, his voice low. "I can't do this anymore."

As the others looked on in silence, Mac walked towards the door.

"Mac!" Eddie shouted at his back.

"Hey!" Craig yelled as he rushed after him.

Mac made it to the door, slamming it on the American. Quickly Craig yanked it back open so he could chase the man down.

"Hello there Stirling, is he one of yours?"

Craig pulled up short. Two men held Mac between them. Both worked for Nemesis Internal Security.

"No, but better hold him for now er, Nicholls, said Stirling, remembering the man's name just in time. "You got guns?"

"Sure."

"OK, give them to Miss Macready and me then get Barrett out of here. We'll wait for the boss. You got any more men outside?"

"We got the place sewn up tight - not even a mouse could get in or out of here without us seeing," replied Nicholls.

"Great. Then you better get someone to take Barrett to a hospital," said Craig.

Richard looked at Sharron and shook his head, clearly very agitated.

"No, just take him back to the hotel for now. He needs rest and I can check him out properly later," she said.

Stirling sensed Barrett's agitation and figured he'd been through enough without being forced to undergo the indignity of an extensive examination at a hospital right now, so he said,

"OK the hotel it is, just you make sure someone stays with him though, I don't want him left alone. Now go on, go, get him out of here!"

"Just a moment," Sharron said. "Richard," she continued as she searched through her bag, "I'm going to give you a shot."

She flicked the end of the syringe and then slowly injected the liquid into her friend's arm. As she watched she saw his muscles relax visibly and his eyes become unfocussed. Just before he lost consciousness a small smile appeared on his lips.

Craig drew one of the security men to one side and spoke to him in a low voice, "I think Mac, the guy you caught when he was on his way out here, is on the level but I can't be sure. Until we've rounded everyone up we need to know exactly where he is and what he's doing. We can't risk him taking it into his head to try and warn the boss about what's happened. If he _is _on the level I don't want to antagonise him and, if he isn't, I don't want to tip him off that we suspect him. We don't want him here, things are quite complicated enough. We can do without having to second guess what he might do. I want you to take him back to the hotel with you and Barrett then keep him there until I let you know it's safe to let him go. You'll have your hands full with Richard so make sure Nicholls goes along with you. I'm sure you can manage Mac on your own once Barrett's settled into bed at the hotel so Nicholls can come back here then, OK?"

Sharron turned away from Richard and nodded to the two waiting security men.

Stirling breathed a sigh of relief as he watched his friend being carried out of the cellar by Nicholls and Mac, who'd stepped forward to help, the other security man following closely behind them.

Craig stood in the doorway watching them help Richard down the corridor, his feet dragging along the ground.

Behind him, Doyle levered himself on to his chair and whispered something to Carter.

"Shut up!" Eddie yelled. "This is all your fault, you psychotic bastard!"

"Oy Mac!" Frankie shouted as Craig began to shut the door. "Yer well out of it mate. Yer boyfriend's been 'aving quite a time with Barrett!"

Carter roared with rage and he punched Doyle hard, knocking him down. He grabbed him as he fell and thumped him again and again. For a moment Craig let him then, realising the man needed to be conscious to give them any information, he dragged Eddie off him. He made a mental note to tell Richard all about it as he hauled Frankie up and plonked him onto the chair.

"Right, start talking! Does your boss sleep on the premises?"

Doyle didn't reply but Carter answered,

"No."

Craig turned back to Frankie,

"When is your boss due back?"

"I don't know, and if I did I wouldn't tell ya," Doyle replied sullenly.

"What's his name?"

"Piss off, I 'aint tellin' you nothin'," Frankie said.

Craig walked over to the box on the floor.

"Hey, what's this? Is this what you used on Barrett? Maybe we should see how long you can hold out if we try it on _you_," he said threateningly to Frankie.

"You wouldn't do that an' ya know it," sneered Doyle.

"Oh yeah?" Craig said as he walked over to the machine and flipped the on switch. "I don't think you have any concept of how angry I am right now."

"Ya wouldn't dare!" Frankie retorted, his voice sounding a little more worried than he'd intended.

"What setting do you think?" Stirling continued, as he turned the dial.

"Craig," Sharron warned.

"Yeah, you listen to 'er mate."

Stirling uncoiled the cord and moved the device closer.

"So what do you say?" the American said with a smile.

He stopped suddenly as he moved his hand nearer to Doyle and turned to Sharron.

"Gunfire," she confirmed, taking her own gun out.

"Wot?" Frankie looked confused.

"Watch them," he ordered. "I'll be back."

Stirling ran from the room and up the stairs. As he burst out of the front door on to the street he came to an abrupt halt. Lying on the pavement was Johnson, howling in pain, clutching his leg. To his right a couple of agents ran up.

"The other two got away," one of the agents said as the other began to apply pressure to the bullet wound in Johnson's leg.

"Which other two?" Craig asked.

"A guy, in his forties maybe, and a girl who was driving. I tried to shoot out the tyres but I hit the back window. Still, maybe I winged one of them," he continued.

"Did you get a look at the car?" Stirling asked.

"Yeah, it was a white Alpha, F 33..."

"66," Craig cut in.

"Oh?

"That's Barrett's car."

"Ah."

"Best not tell him you shot out his rear window, at least for the moment," Craig continued.

"No. Er, I'll get the police looking for it."

"You do that."

"Do you want us to take the two down the cellar in for you?" asked the security guard.

"Sure, but just give Miss Macready and me ten minutes alone with them first, OK?" replied the American.

"Right, you got ten minutes then we come and get them."

Back in the cellar the two men sat sullenly as Sharron stood, her gun trained on them. She turned as Craig entered and motioned him over to her.

"I don't think we'll be getting anything out of him," she said quietly, pointing at Frankie. "The other one? Maybe."

"All right. You take Doyle upstairs then."

Sharron nodded and ordered Frankie to get up.

"You keep yer mouth shut Eddie," Doyle hissed under his breath as he got up and headed for the door.

Once they were alone Stirling approached Carter. The man was staring at the floor glumly.

"So, Eddie..."

"I ain't no snitch!" Carter burst out.

"I can see why," Craig continued. "I don't suppose anybody crosses your boss."

"You got that right. 'E'd string me up."

"Like you did to Barrett?"

"I didn't do none of that!"

"But you'll be charged with it, and from what I've seen of that friend of yours he'll try to pin it on you."

"Frankie wouldn't stitch me up."

"If you say so."

Eddie said nothing.

"What I don't get is why you'd be interested in a code. You look like the kinda guys who're into banks, extortion, smuggling. That sort of thing."

Carter shrugged.

"So why codes?"

"I dunno."

"The boss didn't tell you?"

"He don't tell us nothin' about that side of things."

"What side of things?"

Carter clammed up.

"Listen Eddie, if you co-operate I'll put in a good word for you," Craig continued. "And I don't just mean with the police."

Carter looked up sharply. "You leave Mac out of this, he aint got nothin' to do with it!"

"But I'm sure he might have overheard some interesting bits of information."

Eddie thought over his options. He wanted out. He wanted Mac to listen to him. He didn't want Mac hurt because of him. But he didn't want to end up dead either.

"I can put that boss of yours away," Craig urged. "I just need your help."

Carter paused for a moment and then said, "I don't know wot it's about, but usually we _are _into other stuff, like you say, bank jobs an' such. But sometimes things like this 'appen. We kidnap some bloke an' the boss gets information out of 'im. I dunno wot it's for or why the boss would be interested, an' that's all I know."

"All right, I'm going to need a list of names of all the guys your boss has kidnapped for information," said Craig.

"Aint sure I can remember now. I'll give it a go though," replied Eddie.

"Just do what you can. I'm going to have you sit with one of our artist guys and have you describe them so we can get some idea of who they were. Finally I shall want you to take a look through a bunch of photos too - see if you recognize any of the boss' victims that way. OK?"

"OK. Then I get to see Mac right?" asked Eddie.

"If he's willing to see you yeah."

Craig turned to Sharron,

"Let's go," he said.

* * *

><p>With some difficulty Nicholls, the other Nemesis agent - who was called Harrison - and Mac got Barrett out of the Scotsman's car. Mac and Harrison stood on either side of Richard, hooked his arms round each of their shoulders and headed to the door.<p>

Fortunately it was early, so no guests were in reception. They tried to block Barrett's face from view as Nicholls picked up his room keys from the man on the front desk.

"He's had a bit too much to drink," said Nicholls as he stuffed the keys into his pocket.

Just as they reached the lift Barrett started to wake up. They bundled him inside quickly. He was semi-conscious and confused. As the doors closed Richard rammed his left foot into Harrison's shin, while yanking his arm from the agent's grip.

"Christ, Barrett!" Harrison yelled, clutching his leg. "It's me, Pete Harrison. You're back at the hotel!"

"Who's this?" Richard croaked, pointing to Mac who he was now holding in a head lock.

"That's some fella called Mac, he's fine, he's with us."

The lift door opened. The man from reception stood there staring at the scene inside.

"What's going...?" the startled employee said.

Harrison hit the button to the 9th floor quickly and the doors closed, leaving the very alarmed junior employee wondering if he should wake the manager.

As the lift began to move Richard leaned back against the wall, freeing Mac. When the doors opened again he allowed himself to be supported down the hall and into his room. Once in the bedroom Harrison helped him out of his clothes and into Stirling's bed. Richard thought about pointing out the error, but Craig's was nearest and the room was beginning to spin. By the time his head hit the pillow he was out cold.

"Right then, I reckon I can take it from here so you'd better get back to Stirling," Harrison said to Nicholls.

"OK, see you later," the other agent said as he headed out of the door.

"Do you want me to stay with Barrett so you can get on with the job you got?" asked Mac.

"Sorry, no offence or anything, but I know nothing about you. I'm staying," replied Harrison.

"OK, I'll go home then. Stirling has the address if you need me for anything."

"Er no, sorry that's not an option either. Stirling said to hold you for now, that means you stick around so I know where you are," said Harrison.

"Dammit, well at least order a meal from room service then. Goodness knows how long we'll be holed up here," said Mac.

He gestured towards Richard,

"I can't see that poor sod waking up any time soon."

He picked up the room service menu and started looking down the list.

"Well, what do you say?" he asked.

"OK, order what you like... within reason," capitulated Harrison.

* * *

><p>Craig dropped Sharron off at the hotel and drove away. He needed to get information from Johnson and, as he made his way to the hospital, he went through the questions in his head, mostly to keep his mind off how worried he was about Richard. Sure, Sharron thought his injuries were superficial, but what if she was wrong?<p>

Around forty minutes later he pulled up at St James' Hospital, got out and began looking for the other Nemesis agents. Eventually he found out which room Johnson was in and walked up to the third floor. Outside the room stood a Nemesis security man who turned to Craig as he approached.

"Hey," the man said.

"How's Johnson?" Stirling asked.

"He came through surgery fine, he's sedated for the moment."

"When are the doctors going to wake him up?"

"Not sure," the other agent replied. "They got a bit nasty when I tried to question him. I'm not allowed in the room now."

Craig opened the door. Johnson was asleep, his leg in bandages.

"OK," Craig said, "I'm going to have a word with those doctors."

* * *

><p><strong><strong>Now that Richard is safely out of the cellar, and because many people will be busy over the holiday period, 'Ihe Karpov Code' is going to take a short break. Chapter 10 will be published early in the New Year.<br>****

* * *

><p><em><strong><span>WARNING:<span> 'The Karpov code' now carries an M rating (for violence). _**Because of this it is 'invisible' on the default Champions' fanfiction page. If you want to continue reading the story and not miss new chapters as they are published we suggest that you either subscribe to story alerts or send us a private message asking us to let you know when each new chapter is published. Alternatively you could leave a signed review for this story and we will contact you via fanfiction as we publish each new chapter. **_  
><strong>_

To access the next and subsequent chapters (once they are published) either: scroll down until you see a blue drop down box on the bottom right of the page (or scroll up until you see the same drop down box on the right of the page just above the title) and click 'next' on the right of the box OR click on the down arrow to the right of the chapter number in the blue box and select the desired chapter.


	10. Chapter 10

CHAPTER 10 -You and your friends will have to leave.

Sharron knocked on the door. After a moment Harrison opened it.

"Oh hello," he said as he wiped spaghetti sauce from his mouth.

"How is he?" the blonde young woman asked tersely as she entered the main room.

"He's asleep."

Sharron kept going to the open door leading off to the right. Richard was inside the room lying partly on his back but tilted slightly to one side in an attempt to avoid putting too much pressure on the wounds in his back. His head was turned towards her and his eyes were shut. _'Well,'_ she thought, _'this is as good a time as ever.'_

She stepped into the bedroom and closed the door behind her.

In the cold light of day her colleague's injuries seemed all the more shocking. Sharron took a minute to compose herself before pulling a chair close to the bed. She sat and studied him. His face was still swollen and bruised but she thought it was already looking a little better than when they'd found him. Likewise, some of the burns were starting to heal, although the ones on his arms were bleeding onto the sheet. What she really needed to check out were his legs and whatever damage Eddie had been hinting at. Holding her breath she pulled the sheet down as gently as possible. The last thing she needed was him waking up at this point. Sharron was relieved to see that Richard was naked under the sheet, it would make her task much easier. Even so she was distressed by the implication that her friend's wounds were so bad that he'd been forced to strip completely in an effort to escape the discomfort caused by even the slightest pressure from his clothing.

Sharron had just finished checking Richard's injuries, and was breathing a sigh of relief that there appeared to be no permanent damage done, when the telephone rang. She crossed the room and picked it up.

"Hello."

"Miss Macready?"

"Yes."

"It's the manager here. I've had another serious complaint. I've been reliably informed that you are in that room with three men, two of whom aren't even registered at this hotel. Not only that, from the speed in which you answered this call, I can only assume that you are actually in the bedroom. You can't carry on like this Miss Macready, I'm trying to run a respectable establishment here. It really won't do. You and your friends will have to leave."

"I'll send someone down to discuss the situation," Sharron said.

She put the phone down, walked back into the main room and quickly explained the situation to Harrison.

"Don't worry Miss, I'll wait with Mac until you've finished checking Barrett over then I'll go and sort things out," the man said and left the room.

Sharron walked back into the bedroom, she'd have to re-bandage Richard's wrists and it'd be better to do it while he was unconscious since she wouldn't be able to give him any more pain killers for a couple of hours. She unwound the first bandage as carefully as possible, waiting for a moment whenever her friend's hand twitched. She was just starting the second one when she noticed Mac standing in the doorway.

"Could you get a glass of water?" she asked him.

Mac walked off to the bathroom and Sharron began to remove the last bit of bandage. As she did so Richard woke up, pulling his hand from hers.

"Sorry," she said quietly, "I need to do this."

Barrett nodded, inhaling sharply as she peeled the last section away completely.

"They're starting to heal," she said as she wound a fresh bandage around Richard's right wrist. She glanced at the burn a little higher up his arm.

"Lighter?" she asked.

"Yes." There was slight pause then Richard looked away as he said bitterly, almost to himself, "Mine."

"He used_ your_ ligh..." Sharron began angrily. She broke off abruptly at the expression in her friend's eyes that clearly said 'leave it.'

"Do you want a drink?" she asked, changing the subject rapidly. "Mac's gone to fetch one for you."

"Mac?"

"Eddie's boyfriend, I've asked him to get you some water. I'm going to ring Tremayne."

Sharron tied off the dressing and left the room so that she could use the phone in the other bedroom. Richard was finding even the slight pressure of the bedclothes intolerable and, as soon as the door shut behind Sharron, he kicked off the sheet. Exhausted by this small exertion he closed his eyes. He opened them again as he heard a sound to his left. He looked up to see Mac framed in the doorway, a glass of water in his hand. Barrett reached for the sheet to cover himself but the other man had already seen the extent of the damage.

"My God!" Mac exclaimed.

For a moment he looked as if he were going to throw up but he managed to control the urge and walked into the room, sat down and offered Richard the glass, keeping his hand on the bottom of it as the Nemesis man drank.

"I'm sorry," Mac said quietly.

"I don't remember you being there," Richard replied, his voice sounding a little better for the water.

"Still...I..." Mac lapsed into silence for a moment and tipped up the glass a little to help Barrett finish off the drink. "You don't want to hear about this," he said eventually, shaking his head.

"Eddie didn't do this," Richard replied.

"I don't care, how he could stand by and..."

"He didn't," Barrett swallowed hard before continuing. "He punched Doyle out, let me get some sleep, and gave me a drink." The end of his sentence was barely audible.

Mac stared at the floor. "He's scared of his boss."

"I'm not surprised," Richard replied ruefully. "You got a cigarette?"

"Sure." Mac lit one and handed it over.

"Oh, that's going to help," Sharron said, standing in the doorway. Richard almost smiled.

"Tremayne's in London for a meeting," she continued, "he'll be in touch later today. I'm going to order room service, any preferences?"

Barrett shook his head. A second later he looked up. "No anchovies!" he gasped out urgently.

"Right." Sharron smiled slightly as she turned back into the main room.

"Seriously I mean it - I am truly sorry," Mac repeated after a moment.

"Forget it, you weren't there, you didn't know and your Eddie... well he did what he could for me. It wasn't his fault that Frankie..." he shuddered and his voice trailed away.

"But I should have known. Eddie never calls me when he's on a job...but this time he did. I should have known he was in way over his head. I should have done something."

"Mac, leave it will you. None of this," he gestured down his body, "was your fault and I don't blame you or Eddie for any of it. Let it go. Just try and help us as much as you can so we can put away the people _really_ responsible, okay?"

"OK...and er...thanks," replied Mac quietly.

* * *

><p>It had taken Craig a while to find the right doctor to talk to and then the conversation had been less than satisfactory. Dr Jones had refused to let Craig wake Johnson up for at least the next two hours, so the Nemesis agent had grabbed some food in a cafe opposite the hospital and then headed back up to the third floor about an hour later. As he approached he realised that nobody was standing guard outside the room so quickened his pace.<p>

"...don't understand it," Dr Jones was saying.

Two Nemesis agents and Nicholls stood inside the room watching as the doctor and a nurse checked over Johnson's body. Nicholls turned.

"He's dead."

"What?" exclaimed Craig.

"Phil here went into the room, realised he wasn't breathing and called the doctor."

"I thought they said he went through surgery fine," Stirling said.

"He did," replied the doctor. "This shouldn't have happened. We'll know more after the autopsy, but it looks like he bled to death."

"Could that have happened naturally?" Craig asked.

"Only if he was a haemophiliac," replied the doctor, "which he wasn't. Or if we missed something, and we'll find out about that soon enough."

Stirling took a deep breath to try to get himself under control. This was the last thing they needed, yet another line of enquiry closed.

"I need a list of everyone who had access to this room."

"Well...there's the three of us and a few nurses... and Dr Jones here."

"Was there someone on the door at all times?" Craig asked.

The three men nodded.

"I need the nurses' names," Stirling continued.

"Ask the ward sister to arrange that," Dr Jones ordered, turning to the nearest nurse who rushed off almost before the sentence was finished.

Ten minutes later she returned with a list of five names. Craig looked it over.

"I'll deal with this," he said as he left the room.

* * *

><p>Sharron glanced over at Richard as she hurried to answer the phone.<p>

"Craig here - how's the patient?"

"He's doing pretty well. He's just finished eating," Sharron replied.

"That's great. Is he up to a little work do you think?"

"I think it might do him good - you know Richard, as soon as he starts to feel OK he's eager to get going again. Nothing too strenuous at the moment though," replied Sharron.

"Terrific, I have the perfect job."

He quickly explained what had happened with Johnson then continued,

"Right now our men are rounding up the nurses, as soon as we can find somewhere suitable to take them, they'll all have to be interviewed. I reckon Richard will be able to manage that all right, heck he might even enjoy it. If you think there might be a problem you can babysit him a bit though."

"Nemesis has hired the whole top floor of this hotel - we had to placate the management somehow. He can do the interviews here," Sharron said.

"Good idea. I'll have them sent over. Gotta go now," replied Craig.

Sharron replaced the receiver and poked her head round the door of the bedroom.

"Are you okay to get up Richard?" she asked.

Barrett looked a little unsure.

"It's just that Craig's sending five nurses over for you to interview and I think it's appropriate you have some clothes on."

"Five nurses?" Richard asked, looking rather more enthusiastic.

"That's right."

"Well, I suppose. If you insist." He glanced around the room "Damn, wrong room."

Richard swung his legs slowly out of the bed and sat up gingerly. As he tested out his right leg he gathered the sheet around his waist. Sharron put a hand out. It was testament to how bad he was feeling that he took it without hesitation and hauled himself up.

"Well?" Sharron asked.

"Not so bad," he replied, his voice almost back to normal. "Amazing isn't it."

"Yes, amazing what the prospect of talking to five nurses can do for you," Sharron said, smiling.

"Shut up, Macready," Richard replied with a wry grin as he made his way out of Craig's bedroom with only a slight limp. Mac looked up from the couch, surprised to see him walking about. As Barrett crossed the main room there was a knock at the door.

"That can't be them!" he exclaimed.

"Don't worry, I'll head them off."

But just as Sharron got to the door it opened.

"Oh," she said. "Hello, sir."

"I was in London so I thought..." Tremayne stopped abruptly, looking over Sharron's shoulder at Richard who stared back for a moment, then said,

"I'm going to have a shower." He turned and headed into his room.

"How is he?" asked Tremayne, gesturing towards Barrett.

"Better than you might expect," replied Sharron cautiously. "He's going to interview the nurses that are on their way over."

"Is that a good idea? No disrespect to you Sharron but don't you think he needs to be checked out properly at a hospital? From what I've been told about what those men did to him he needs more than the home nursing he's had so far," said Tremayne.

Sharron debated what to say. If her colleague was checked over at a hospital the doctor would be certain to notice that he was healing at a phenomenal rate and that could lead to some very awkward questions. On the other hand, if she said he didn't need checking, that would also arouse suspicion. She decided to let Richard handle it and to help him out by trying to buy him a little time.

"Maybe we should ask Richard what he wants to do," she suggested. "After all it is his body. In the meantime though I think he should be allowed to interview those nurses. It'll take his mind off what was done to him which will be a good thing."

"You might be right about that. I'll reserve judgment until I've seen for myself how he is," replied Tremayne.

Richard wasn't really listening as he walked in to his bedroom and shut the door. He entered the bathroom and dropped the sheet on the floor before turning on the shower. As he waited for the water to warm up he stood, his hands gripping the sink, and looked into the mirror. He immediately wished he hadn't. Seeing what had been done to him made every part of his body hurt even more. He wasn't sure if he could bear to examine the branding that Doyle had done on his upper arms but, feeling he needed to know just how bad it was, he made himself look. He twisted his body so that he could see the backs of his arms in the mirror and steeled himself to see the word 'faggot'.

For a moment he thought he was going to be violently sick when he saw that, instead of what he'd threatened to do, Frankie had burned 'F' on one arm and 'D' on the other. For Richard this was much worse. Now he was going to have to walk round with that evil man's initials on his arms and it would take some time before they faded, even at his accelerated rate of healing. His stomach gave a horrified lurch as the thought struck him that the marks may never completely vanish. For the rest of his life, every time he took off his shirt, he'd be reminded of what Doyle had put him through. A closer examination of the burns reassured him on that point. Luckily they were only superficial, though damned painful. He'd suffered worse in the past and healed completely.

The relief he felt was tempered with the knowledge that he was likely to bear the scars for a considerable time. He briefly considered if it would be easier for him to cope if he burned himself a little more and changed the initials to his own. It wouldn't be too difficult to alter 'F D' to 'R B'. He dismissed the idea impatiently, hadn't he been through enough already without adding to the pain by his own hand? Richard realised that the trauma of his experiences was affecting his judgement. Now that he was alone the horror of everything he'd been through was beginning to sink in.

He screwed his eyes shut and concentrated on staying upright. He'd not really had time to process what had happened and he really didn't want to with Tremayne in the other room. Unfortunately, now he was finally alone, it was a struggle for him to fight the feelings that surfaced. With his eyes shut it was hard not to see Frankie's face, or flinch at the thought of what he'd done. Turning away from the mirror, he opened his eyes, staring hard at a crack in the tiling on the far wall. He tried to empty his mind, breathing as slowly as he could. He tried not to think about how much the hot water was going to hurt because he needed to get the dried sweat and blood off himself, otherwise he thought he might really lose it. Then, before he could think too much more about it, he stepped into the shower. When the water hit him the pain cleared his mind of everything else.

* * *

><p>"Are you all right?" asked Tremayne in response to Sharron's sharp intake of breath.<p>

"Yes, yes of course," she replied, regaining her composure immediately. "As I was saying, Mac here has been trying to help."

"He works for them?"

"No, his friend Carter does. He's been co-operating with us as well. Neither of them know much though, I'm afraid, and now Johnson's dead there'll be no help from him either. What about the other two men who were arrested, did they come up with anything useful?"

Tremayne thought for a moment.

"I need to talk to you privately. I'll call an agent to take Mac to another room. Do you know when Stirling is due back?"

"He didn't say, but I doubt that he'll be very long."

"Well, I'd prefer to talk to all three of you so it'll wait for the time being," Tremayne said as he picked up the phone and started to dial. He spoke into the telephone,

"I need an agent at the hotel right now." He paused a moment then repeated, "An agent, at the hotel at once." Another pause.

"Look what kind of a secretary are you, surely you understand plain English. I - need - an - agent - sent - over- immediately," he said slowly and clearly.

"What do you mean you're not a secretary? Well why are you answering this phone then?... Oh, I see... Oh, I didn't know... yes well I'm very sorry... yes, yes I do know what time it is... yes I understand... look I really am most awfully sorry but… yes I will be more careful next time... yes, I'm sure the manager will be very annoyed that you've been disturbed once again... I can only apologise... I can assure you it won't happen again. Goodbye Mrs. Hunter."

Tremayne turned to Sharron.

"How do you get an outside line on this phone?" he asked testily.

In spite of everything Sharron could barely suppress her laughter as she realised Tremayne had direct dialled Mrs. Hunter's room by accident. She pulled herself together with an effort and explained to him that he needed to dial reception and go through the switchboard in order to make an outside call.

Half an hour later Richard had still not emerged from his room and Sharron had dealt with interviewing the first of the five nurses. The girl hadn't been much help, she'd last seen Johnson three hours before his death. Sharron was a good judge of people and hadn't thought that the nurse was lying, so she'd thanked her and told her to leave a contact number and go home.

During this time Tremayne had been holed up in Craig's room on the telephone. Sharron had been able to overhear parts of the many conversations he was having, but much of it had been strangely difficult to piece together.

As she was wondering if she should see if Richard was all right she sensed Craig in the corridor. Seconds later the door from the hall opened and he stalked in.

"Well that was a complete waste of time. I trek all the way over to Scotland Yard to try to throw my weight around about those ID's and they tell me they can't talk to me. Then I discover Tremayne's beaten me to it, the sly old..."

Sharron waved at him frantically.

"What?"

"He's in your room," she whispered.

"Tremayne?"

She nodded.

"Oops."

"Look," Sharron continued, "can you check if Richard's all right, he's been in there an awfully long time."

"Sure, how's he holding up?"

"If Tremayne asks, he's doing fine."

Stirling nodded and walked over to Barrett's room. He knocked and walked in. Richard was doing up his shirt.

"Hello there," Craig said breezily.

"Come in why don't you," Richard replied a little sharply.

"Tremayne's in my room, can I borrow a shirt?"

"Er, sure."

Stirling took one from his friend's wardrobe and stripped off as Richard finished dressing. Craig noticed his colleague wince as he did up his belt but didn't mention it. When they both walked back into the main room Tremayne was there, he looked tense.

"So you went over to Scotland Yard, Stirling?" Tremayne asked.

"Er, yes sir. They told me you'd already been in touch with them."

"Well, I thought I'd hurry up the officers looking for those men you arrested. I woke a few people up this morning."

"So that's why they were so pleased," replied Craig with a touch of sarcasm in his voice.

"Yes," Tremayne gave his operative a look, "I demanded action, and action is what I got."

Tremayne bent down and pulled a number of photos from his briefcase.

"These are the two you arrested yesterday, right?"

Richard took the photographs and nodded.

"The older one is Jerry Mayes," Tremayne continued. "The younger one didn't come up in the records."

"That must be Frankie's brother," Richard cut in.

"Is one of these Frankie?" Tremayne spread a number of photographs across the coffee table. Richard sat and scanned them, picking out the faces he recognised.

"These are known associates of this man." Tremayne gave Barrett another photograph. "Was that their boss?"

Richard stared at it for a moment. Outwardly he seemed calm but Craig felt his pulse race for a moment.

"Yes, that's him," Barrett replied, his voice only slightly tense.

"Unfortunately the police have never been able to pin anything on him, they don't even have his real name. Here's a list of his aliases and known addresses." Tremayne handed a piece of paper to Stirling.

"What's this about, Tremayne?" Craig asked abruptly. "Why are you here?"

Tremayne paused for a moment.

"I'm here because I don't know who I can trust, or whether Nemesis communications are being monitored."

That got their attention.

Tremayne continued. "Four days ago the UN sent me copies of documents supposedly written in a new code..."

"The Karpov code?" Richard cut in.

"Indeed, the Karpov code. They requested that our cryptographers attempt to break it. They also told me to put them under 24 hour surveillance, for their own protection. So, I gave the papers to all our people three days ago and Internal Security watched them. The only cryptographer not in Geneva was you, Richard. You were due back from London, at which point I would have given you the documents."

"Except I didn't come back."

"No, the next thing I knew Craig called to tell me the two of you had been picked up and questioned about the code. I was told by the UN not to mention it to anybody outside the cryptography department. It wasn't until I dug a little deeper that I discovered that the code didn't in fact exist. The documents were faked up to look like they were coded messages so I risked calling you here. By that time they'd picked up Richard again."

"So it was a set up," Barrett said quietly.

"It would appear so," replied Tremayne uncomfortably. "I presume that somebody thought you'd been given the papers and that you'd be the most likely to crack it. You do have a reputation for breaking the unbreakable."

"Lucky me."

"So we have a leak at the UN?" Sharron said.

"It may be worse than that. Neither the UN, nor the cryptographers should have access to Nemesis operation details. They shouldn't have known you were in London, let alone which hotel you were staying in."

"We have a leak in Nemesis?" Craig said incredulously.

"It looks highly likely, and possibly more than one."

"And you have no idea why the UN set up the false code?" Stirling asked.

"None, although I'm working on it. For the moment your priority is to find _this_ man."

Tremayne pointed at the picture Richard was still holding. "Find him, and maybe we'll start getting answers."

Tremayne picked up his briefcase.

"And Barrett, go to the hospital for a check up before you do anything else." He strode to the door, "I'm heading back to Geneva. I'll be in touch if I find out anything."

Tremayne seemed keen to leave before the full implications of what he had just said sank in. Without another word he left, leaving the three of them in shocked silence.

"OK so what now?" asked Craig.

"Did anyone catch the last thing Tremayne asked me to do? I was so stunned by what he said before that I missed it," said Richard.

"Sorry, I must have missed it too," said the other two in unison.

"I think we need to get an identikit picture of Sonja done, someone must know who she is. Richard can you enlist Mrs. Hunter's help getting the picture done - she seems to have had a really good look at the woman," said Craig.

"Me? Can't Sharron do it, or you?"

"I can't," said Sharron, "I'm blonde remember?"

"Richard, you need to take it easy for a little while, a nice sit down and chat with Mrs. H will do you the world of good. Anyway she'll be feeling very sympathetic towards you, after all you're living proof of her theory about blondes being the evil incarnate," laughed Craig.

Richard sighed dramatically.

"Well, at least give me some more painkillers before I go."

Sharron suppressed a smile as she handed him a couple of pills. "Don't take these for an hour or so."

"Maybe I should talk to those nurses before I tackle Mrs Hunter?"

"Sonja's the priority," said Craig.

"Perhaps I should check with Mac first, he might know her?"

"Er, well yes, maybe. In fact, we need to send him home soon, we can't hold him forever."

"All right, Mac it is." Richard looked a lot happier.

"Okay Sharron, let's start hitting this list of Tremayne's," Craig said as he pulled on his jacket and headed for the door.

As soon as they had left Richard downed the pills, gathered up the photos and went to find Mac.

* * *

><p><em><strong><span>WARNING:<span> 'The Karpov code' now carries an M rating (for violence). _**Because of this it is 'invisible' on the default Champions' fanfiction page. If you want to continue reading the story and not miss new chapters as they are published we suggest that you either subscribe to story alerts or send us a private message asking us to let you know when each new chapter is published. Alternatively you could leave a signed review for this story and we will contact you via fanfiction as we publish each new chapter. **_  
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	11. Chapter 11

CHAPTER 11 - Well, I warn you, it's a long story...

"I've seen some of the faces," said Mac as he looked over the photos. "I don't know their names though. I don't exactly socialise with them."

"All right, how about a young lady called Sonja? She's blonde, about five foot four inches tall, blue eyes, pretty..."

"Not sure I'd notice," Mac said with a slight smile.

"Do you know anything about her?"

"Frankie's mentioned her, he's got a bit of a thing for her I think. Don't know her last name though."

"So you know Frankie Doyle?"

"Not really, but he and Eddie go way back, they lived near each other when they were kids. Frankie turns up sometimes to pick up Eddie for a job," Mac continued, suddenly more subdued.

"What do _you_ do?" Richard asked. "For a living I mean?"

"I work for the council."

"If you don't mind me asking, how the heck did you end up with Eddie?"

Mac hesitated for a moment. "We met one night in the city, in a... er... club. He told me he was a mechanic. After about a couple of months of us... er... seeing each other, he showed up at my place looking like someone had attacked him. I wanted to call the police. He didn't want me to. We got into an argument and he told me what he really did. I didn't see him for a while after that, but then... well, I decided he wasn't a lost cause. He just grew up with all of that so he thought it was normal." Mac looked up. "Sorry, you probably didn't want that much detail."

Richard shrugged. "For what it's worth, I don't think he's a lost cause either."

"It was really Frankie's influence that sent him down that road in the first place," Mac continued. "Not that I'm excusing Eddie for any of it, he's a grown man, he knew the score. But, all the same, I reckon he'd have got out much sooner if Doyle hadn't been around. Thing is, they've known each other years and years and... I'm sorry I'm running on a bit aren't I?"

"Well just a little I suppose," Barrett said with a small smile. "But I think I'd like to hear the story all the same. It'll give me a excuse to rest up a bit more."

That wasn't the true reason. Richard was secretly hoping that hearing about Doyle as a child might help stop the flashbacks he was having. He'd be able to visualise the man as something other than the sadistic monster that he couldn't banish from his thoughts. He wasn't about to share that information with Mac though.

"Well, I warn you, it's a long story but you can stop me when you've heard enough," the Scotsman said. He paused for a moment, to gather his thoughts, then launched into the narrative.

"Eddie and Frankie lived near to each other when they were kids. They went to the same schools... and played truant together from them too. The main thing that drew them together in the first place and that binds them together now is Eddie's ma. She's tough, from the East End, and she's an amazing lady. Anyway the Doyle parents weren't up to much and Frankie and Billy were left to their own devices a lot. Frankie's ma and pa used to have lots of fist fights and the kids sometimes spent the night shivering on the streets to avoid getting hit themselves..." He broke off. "Look are you sure you want to hear all this? It was years ago, it can't be important to your investigation."

"Yes, yes, go on." Richard said a little impatiently.

"OK... Well apparently one night Billy wasn't quick enough on his feet and he got a real pasting. Frankie was a bit faster and he made it out of the house okay. He was just a kid and he was too scared to go back and try and help his brother. He hid near the house so he could see the window and, as soon as the lights went out, he sneaked back in. He found Billy unconscious and covered in blood. Frankie didn't dare call for help for fear of getting battered himself. Most of the neighbours round that way kept well clear of the Doyle parents anyway so there was no-one he could go to. He cleaned his brother up as best he could and cradled him in his lap all night long, just praying he'd wake up and everything would be all right. Billy did come round eventually but he was never the same again and Frankie's always blamed himself for that. He reckons that, if he'd stuck around to help, his parents might not have beaten his brother unconscious. The guilt Frankie feels about that is one of the reasons why he's always so protective of him. Anyone who touches Billy generally lives to regr..." Mac saw Barrett's face change and broke off abruptly. "Oh God I'm sorry, you didn't need reminding of that."

"Just carry on with the story," said Richard tersely.

"A couple of days later Eddie skipped school and went for a walk along the river. He found Frankie there, crying his heart out. Doyle told Eddie all about the batterings and Eddie told his ma. She went down to where Frankie was and told him that, if they ever needed a place to stay, he and Billy were to come to her house. As you can imagine, the two of them took her up on her offer... many times. She used to feed them too, when the Doyle parents had drunk and smoked all the money away. She knows that Billy's a 'bit slow' and she's been really good to him. Frankie's very grateful to her, for himself as well as his brother. A roof over your head when you need it and food in your stomach goes a long way for a child and Frankie knew she did it out of kindness, not for what she could get out of it. Sometimes she'd even hide the two of them and stand up to their drunken mother or father when they came looking for the kids so they could beat them for some imagined - or maybe real - bit of naughtiness the boys had committed. ..So that's the story... sad I know, but it still doesn't excuse what Doyle's like."

Richard didn't want to think about that and made haste to change the subject.

"What about Eddie's dad? Where does he fit into the story?" he asked.

"I'm not sure where he is, his ma never talks about him," Mac replied. "Maybe he's banged up or perhaps he walked out on them. Whatever, Eddie's ma brought him up single-handedly. She doesn't like it that he played truant and that he breaks the law and stuff like that, but she's enough of a realist to accept that it's going to happen whatever she says or does. So she just keeps her head down and does what she can for him. Like I said before, Eddie's ma's faces facts, she always suspected her son was gonna prefer men to women and she recognised that having Frankie around, although he could be _very _nasty, would be a protection for Eddie. Not that this was her motivation for looking out for the Doyle kids, because it wasn't, from her point of view it was just a rather nice side effect of her kindness. Frankie's gratitude to her meant that he'd protect Eddie from the type of blokes that like to beat up on gays, even at the risk of being called bent himself. Not that the gay bashers are likely to make _that _particular mistake twice. Frankie is a_ very _bad enemy to make," he finished.

"So how did Doyle feel when he found out Eddie was gay? He doesn't strike me as the tolerant type," Richard said with a touch of irony.

"When Frankie first realised that Eddie preferred men it didn't bother him that much - he certainly would never have risked a rift with Eddie's ma by making things tough for her son because of it. He might not acknowledge that _he_ needs Eddie's ma but he knows Billy does. He's also been friends with Eddie more or less all his life. He knows Eddie isn't interested in him for... er... in... er.. oh you know what I mean! Doyle isn't keen on gays in general but he doesn't really see Eddie that way except when he's really mad and then it's just a convenient thing to taunt him with. Most of the time they're just old childhood mates and who Eddie sleeps with hasn't changed that. Also, sometimes it's quite useful - if he and Eddie go anywhere together and see an attractive girl the field 's clear for Frankie.

As for Eddie, Doyle has always been around. He's grateful to him for taking on the 'gay bashers' even though it put Frankie personally at risk. He also knows that the Doyle kids had a rough deal when they were handing out parents and that violence was a way of life in their household so that Frankie has some excuse for being as he is. Eddie's always been confident that, although Doyle can be very sadistic, he can usually rein him in if necessary. So he was never that worried about that aspect of him. In general they get on fine, know each other's character really well and are both in the same line of business. Under normal circumstances they can have a laugh together and they like the same sort of things - drinking, cards, stuff like that.

There's not much else to say really. The one thing I'm sure of now though is that, when Eddie has time to think it through, he'll realise that their friendship has reached the end of the line. What happened to you will open his eyes to what Frankie has become. I could see how shaken Eddie was when I burst in to that cellar just after your friends had rescued you. I just wish, really wish I'd done something to help you sooner," the Scotsman said.

"Mac just leave it will you, you weren't to know. Let's just concentrate on the here and now and do what we can to make sure the people responsible are caught. I don't blame you for anything, it wasn't your fault, " Barrett said.

"Thanks," Mac replied. "Sorry I can't help you. I stay as far away from that lot as possible."

"I'm not surprised," Richard said ruefully. "Look, if you think of anything that might help, get in touch all right?"

"I can go?"

"Sure, just leave your number."

Mac hesitated before leaving, he seemed to be trying to come to a decision about something.

"You okay? You remembered something else?" asked Richard eagerly.

"Er no, sorry. It's just that … it's just... erm."

"Just what?"

"Oh, I don't know," said Mac in an exasperated voice.

Richard looked at him encouragingly,

"What don't you know?" he asked.

"A hell of a lot," laughed Mac. "What I'm trying to decide now is whether I want to ask you if I can go and see Eddie. I don't know if we can patch things up - or even if I want to. When I think about what happened to you and how Eddie just let it happen it makes me sick, but I do know how scared he is of crossing the boss. He's been wanting out for as long as I've known him and er... and erm... and... and well... I'm kind of fond of him," he finished, with a slightly embarrassed smile.

"Look you don't have to decide now. Get in touch when you're ready and, if you want to see him, I'll see what I can do. No promises though, he is under arrest you know," responded Richard.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Yes...What?"

"Eddie said he didn't do any of that," he gestured at Barrett's body. "Is that true? Did he really have no part at all in hurting you?"

Richard paused for a moment, he didn't want to have to keep thinking about everything he'd been through but this man needed answers.

"He did do something didn't he? Did he hit you? Use that machine? What? I know he did something - I can see it in your eyes," said Mac.

"He didn't do anything direct - and that's the honest truth. The only thing he _was_ involved in he more than made up for afterwards. Mac, you need to talk to _him_, ask _him_ about it. Now, please, I need to get on with tracking down the real perpetrators," Richard said.

"OK, I really am sorry... about everything. You take care of yourself."

As Barrett watched Mac get in to the lift he leaned back against the wall. He thought about what the Scotsman had told him about Doyle's background. Unfortunately it didn't seem to have helped much, if at all. He found it hard to reconcile the conflicting images he now had of Frankie, one as a helpless child living in appalling circumstances and the other as the evil monster who'd put him through such hell. He acknowledged that there was a part of himself that didn't want to think there was any excuse at all for what Doyle had done. Richard didn't believe that Frankie's story justified his actions anyway. There were plenty of kids who grew up in similar circumstances and they didn't all turn into psychopathic sadists. Most of them became normal compassionate human beings. Besides, Richard acknowledged, right now he really needed to hate Frankie for what he'd done. He decided to put Mac's story to the back of his mind and try and focus on the task in hand. He didn't hurt so much now, but boy was he tired. He rubbed his right eye, carefully avoiding his left, which was still swollen, then headed down the stairs to find Mrs. Hunter.

* * *

><p><em><strong><span>WARNING:<span> 'The Karpov code' now carries an M rating (for violence). _**Because of this it is 'invisible' on the default Champions' fanfiction page. If you want to continue reading the story and not miss new chapters as they are published we suggest that you either subscribe to story alerts or send us a private message asking us to let you know when each new chapter is published. Alternatively you could leave a signed review for this story and we will contact you via fanfiction as we publish each new chapter. **_  
><strong>_

To access the next and subsequent chapters (once they are published) either: scroll down until you see a blue drop down box on the bottom right of the page (or scroll up until you see the same drop down box on the right of the page just above the title) and click 'next' on the right of the box OR click on the down arrow to the right of the chapter number in the blue box and select the desired chapter.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12 - Is it the Russians you're after?

Outside Mrs. Hunter's door Richard paused for a moment, took a deep breath and knocked. He'd almost decided she wasn't in by the time the door opened.

"Now, who's...oh, it's the young man from the lift, is it?" Mrs. Hunter looked him up and down. "You know, you look worse every time I see you. Still, if you must go around with certain young ladies you should expect that sort of thing I suppose."

She paused for a second.

"Mrs. Hunter..."

"You'll be wanting something?"

"Well..."

She was looking at him with a belligerent expression and Richard found himself at a loss as to how he should proceed, it took a great effort of will for him to stand his ground and ignore the instinct to turn tail and run back to his room. He realised beleatedly that he really wasn't ready for an encounter with the redoubtable Mrs Hunter. Something of what he was feeling must have shown on his face and, luckily for Richard, it had the effect of softening the lady's attitude towards him.

"Come in then, would you like some tea?"

"That would be..."

"It's not very good, they don't have the right type here, it's all fancy."

"Oh, I..."

"Still, beggars can't be choosers."

She wandered into another room, leaving Richard wondering quite how long it would take him to complete a sentence. She was still talking to him through the door but he had to admit he wasn't paying full attention. He was finding it very difficult to concentrate and he was fervently wishing that he'd gone to interview the nurses first, even though he doubted that they'd have anything useful to tell him.

"...very nice man, obviously an old fashioned gent, yes?"

"Hmmm?" Richard looked up to see Mrs. Hunter standing at her table with two cups of tea.

"Your boss," she clarified.

"Oh yes, yes."

She placed the cups on the table, then turned to Richard with a piercing look. "Young man..." she began. Barrett steeled himself for a dressing down but, to his surprise, she finished the sentence with the words, "Why don't you sit down before you fall down, dear?"

Richard sat down gratefully. The events of the last couple of days had shaken him far more than he wanted to admit and only now was it dawning on him just how bad it had been. He wanted to pick up the teacup but was afraid his hand would shake so he sat with both hands in his lap.

"Mrs. Hunter," he began, "I need you to do something for me. I want you to describe the blonde you saw me with so that, between us, we can come up with an accurate drawing of her."

"You want _WHAT_?" she exploded, "A drawing of her? You really have been taken in by her haven't you? Have you no sense whatsoever? Drawing of her indeed! What you going to do with it? Carry it in your wallet next to your heart? Harrumph, if you think for one moment that I'm going to help you, just so you can carry round an image of a creature like that, you must be out of your mind. To think that I'd actually started to feel sorry for you! I should have known better. A drawing! Good grief young man, I can hardly believe you're serious. I'm not going to sit here with you a moment longer listening to this delusional talk. I'll thank you to leave, right this very minute, or I'll call the manager. A drawing of that blonde hussy!" She continued to mutter under her breath, shaking her head in disbelief.

Richard was so stunned he almost got up and left the room, he was halfway to his feet before he pulled himself together.

"No, no," he protested, "you've got it all wrong."

_"I've_ got it wrong?" she said indignantly. "_I'm _not the one who wants to carry a picture of a blonde brazen hussy around with me. How dare you? It defies imagina..."

"I need it for the police," Richard cut in desperately.

"The police?"

"Yes. You were right all along Mrs. Hunter," he said, trying to placate her. "The young lady is in with a very bad crowd and we need to find out who she is and as much about her as we can."

"Oh, well that's different," said Mrs. Hunter, mollified at last. "I will certainly help you with your picture if that will help to stop her devious ways. I also have some information about the strumpet herself that might help you track her down, " she finished.

"Oh?"

"Well, I decided to do a little detective work of my own. So I went back to Dorothy's and guess who was there?"

"Who's Dorothy?" Richard asked.

"My daughter, do keep up. Anyway, Donald was there so I asked him if he could help me out..."

"Donald?"

"Her son," Mrs. Hunter replied, looking at Richard rather sympathetically. "Are you sure you've not been hit on the head a few too many times?"

"Er, no. Sorry, I've just been a bit out of the loop."

"I gathered from your nice American friend that you'd disappeared with the blonde harlot I saw you with. He seemed very worried about you so I wondered if my grandson could help track you down. He was at school with the men your friend was after and so I thought Donald might know who she was."

"Who?"

"The blonde," Mrs. Hunter said, unable to entirely hide the exasperation in her voice. "Are you sure you should be up, you don't seem to be thinking clearly?"

Richard was beginning to think she might be right. His head was spinning and he was having to grip both hands together to stop them shaking. He was going to kill Craig for making him do this interview, especially when there were four nurses somewhere in the building who would undoubtedly make more sense and be a lot more fun to talk to.

"Don't you want your tea?"

"Um," Barrett shifted in his seat. Not wanting to appear rude he reached out for the cup with both hands and took a sip. For the most part he managed to hold it steady. As he carefully replaced the cup in the saucer he looked up. Mrs. Hunter was looking at him very strangely. She reached out and took his right hand in hers, slowly she turned it over.

"I think you're bleeding dear."

He looked down at his wrist. Maybe the shower hadn't been such a good idea.

"Mrs. Hunter," he said as politely as he could. "I don't suppose you could tell me, very quickly, what it is you found out?"

"Yes, yes of course. I have been going on a bit, haven't I. Terrible habit, my daughter says that I..." she stopped abruptly. "Sorry, doing it again. All right, Donald knows that blonde, she's called Sonja Temnikova. She lives over on Barnaby Close in Balham... Is it the Russians you're after, sounds like it to me?"

Richard stared at her for a moment, hardly believing his luck that he finally had an address and that she'd managed to tell him in under five minutes.

"I'm afraid I can't discuss the case but thank you. This is very important. Do you know anything else, anything at all, that might help me?"

"I'm sorry, I don't. Do you want me to look at that?" she asked looking down at the blood on his bandaged wrist.

"That's all right, my friend's a doctor."

"Well," Mrs. Hunter said as she rose, "you'd better run along then and get yourself sorted out."

As Richard got up she helpfully took his arm. Unfortunately the woman had an iron like grip. The Nemesis man made a very odd sound and pried her hand off him.

"Can you not do that?" he asked in a rather strangled voice.

"Oh, have I...let me take a look."

"No really," Richard replied rather abruptly as he backed rapidly towards the door.

"I was a nurse during the war."

"It's fine," he continued as he reached back for the door handle and yanked it open. "I just need a little lie down."

"If you say so."

"And Mrs. Hunter, thank you. I think I might have been dead if you hadn't helped my friend find me."

For once she was speechless.

"Goodbye Mrs. Hunter," Richard said as he closed the door.

He stood for a moment trying not to think about the damage she might have done to his arm and then resolved to see the nurses straight away. He was sure if he went back to his room he'd not be able to bring himself to leave again, he was so tired. Still, as he needed to pass on the address Mrs Hunter had given him to either Sharron or Craig, he headed in the direction of his room anyway. Luckily his resolve to interview the nurses wasn't put to the test because he encountered one of the Nemesis security men, who he knew by sight, in the corridor. He quickly dispatched him with the message and continued to where the nurses were being held.

He asked the man in charge to send the first nurse in and sat in the room that had been allocated for the interviews. He couldn't help feeling a little excited at the thought of being able to interview a pleasant young lady at last. He barely managed to hide his disappointment when a large, plain looking, middle-aged lady was shown into the room.

"Ah hello, and you are?" he asked.

"Nurse Martin. Oh my, young man you look as though you need some nursing care yourself but I can see that you are the type who will not be led. I won't waste my breath telling you to take it easy, I've had too much experience with men of your type. You won't stop until you fall down, I can see that. So," she continued, "ask me whatever you need to know and I shall endeavour to answer as quickly and succinctly as I can. That way you'll get that rest you need as quickly as possible."

She was as good as her word and Richard soon concluded the interview, certain she had told him everything she knew. Which unfortunately didn't help in the least.

The next nurse came in, also a middle-aged lady, she stalked into the room and stood looking down at him with a belligerent look on her face.

"Do please sit down," Richard said.

"I don't intend to be here long enough to make it worth my while," she replied, shortly, "I've been kept waiting for far too long already so kindly ask me what you want to know and let me go home. This is all very inconvenient.

"I'm sorry that you've been inconvenienced but I must remind you that a man was killed today, in your hospital."

"It isn't _my _hospital. I just happen to work there," she replied, in the manner of one who has just scored a point. "I can assure you I saw nothing untoward and I really have no idea why I have to keep repeating that fact over and over again. Maybe I should just write it down on a piece of paper and wave it in people's faces every time I'm asked. I'm awfully tired of having to repeat it."

Richard made a half-hearted attempt to ask her the questions on his mental list but, if she knew anything at all, she clearly wasn't going to share it with him. With a sigh he asked her to wait in the other room for a little longer.

"Oh for goodness sake," she exploded, "I have a home to go to and I am absolutely fed up with all this hanging about. Maybe you'd prefer it if I made something up? Maybe I could go then?"

"I'm really sorry," said Richard. "I will release you as soon as I possibly can."

To his great relief the security guard ushered her, still protesting loudly, from the room.

He sent for the next nurse. Having resigned himself to interviewing a string of middle-aged ladies, he was pleasantly surprised to be confronted by a young, extremely pretty nurse. Admittedly she was brunette not blonde but, under the circumstances, that was probably just as well.

"Take a seat," he said.

Unfortunately this nurse had a lot less experience with men of Barrett's type than her predecessors and she instantly started fussing about him.

"I'm sorry," she said, "I refuse to answer any questions until you at least let me see to your wrists. You are bleeding and I can't sit here and ignore that. I'm not a nurse for nothing you know."

Richard made a few attempts to ask her the questions he needed answers to but she was having none of it and, in the end, he asked her to wait in the other room. Sharron or Craig would have to interview her instead, although he suspected she knew nothing that would help anyway.

Without much hope he sent for the remaining nurse.

* * *

><p>"Well, that was another dead end," Craig said as he and Sharron walked out of the fifth building they'd checked on the list. "How the heck have they cleared every one of them out? They shouldn't be this organised."<p>

"Maybe they'd abandoned them before today?"

"All of them?"

Sharron shrugged and headed towards the car. As Stirling followed her a car pulled up. A man got out and hurried towards them. Craig recognised him as Philip Horsberg, one of the agents who had been at the warehouse.

"Stirling, my boss gave me this. Apparently Barrett got a lead that needs following up and I was asked to pass it on to you."

He handed over an envelope. The American tore it open and quickly read it.

"How's your end of the operation going Philip?" Craig asked, as he handed the note to Sharron.

"No sign of Barrett's car. I suppose it's been dumped. No sign of the boss or the girl either, we have the police on to that, but it looks like they've gone to ground." Horsberg paused, noting the look on the other man's face.

"So no progress at all then?" Stirling asked testily.

"Er, no," he replied.

"Come on Craig," Sharron said getting into the car.

Stirling sighed and opened the driver's door.

"Thanks anyway," Craig paused. "Actually could you do me a favour? I need you to ask Barrett to call Tremayne. Maybe they've made headway back in Geneva?"

"Sure," Horsberg replied as Stirling shut the door and drove off.

Twenty minutes later they pulled up a street away from Sonja's house. As they approached Barnaby Close, Craig noticed someone coming towards him.

"Hey Stirling," the man said.

"You were at the hospital weren't you?"

"Yeah, I'm Dave Taylor. Barrett gave me the message about this place. I thought you could use some back up."

"Er... right," Craig replied. He really hoped this didn't complicate matters. He didn't want to have to try and explain anything 'unexplainable' to the young man. "All right, let's go. We haven't got the house number so we'll have to do them one at a time."

* * *

><p>Richard looked up without much hope as the last nurse was shown in. His heart lifted as he saw that she was young, very pretty and had strawberry blonde hair.<p>

"Do sit down," he said, with a trace of enthusiasm in his voice.

"Would you like a drink, sir?" asked the security man.

"Good idea," replied Richard, "I'll have a pint of bitter please." Turning to the nurse he said, "What will you have?"

"A dry martini please," she responded with a smile.

The man went to fetch their drinks from the bar and Richard smiled a little foolishly at the young woman in front of him, then he pulled himself together.

"Your name is?"

"I'm Nurse Evans but please call me Diane," she replied, smiling. "I say would you mind awfully letting me re-bandage those wrists of yours, only you are bleeding through a bit and I can easily answer your questions at the same time."

She rummaged in her capacious handbag and brought out some fresh bandages.

"Okay. That's very thoughtful of you," said Richard, holding his hands out to her.

She unwrapped the bandages slowly and Richard rested his hands in her lap and was enjoying the feel of her cool fingers on his lower arms when he suddenly noticed the expression on her face. She looked almost excited and it made him feel very uncomfortable.

"That does look nasty," she said as she examined his wrists. "Does it hurt _very _much?" she asked.

"It's not too bad," Richard replied, trying to push down the feeling of panic that was rising in his chest.

"I understand that you were tortured,' the nurse remarked conversationally as she bandaged his wrists very gently. Her calm manner was completely at odds with the almost hungry look in her eyes and Richard began to wish he'd let Craig do the interviews after all.

"Someone told me they used some sort of electrical device on you," she went on, in the same relaxed tone. "On your... well let's not be coy here, I am a nurse after all." She laughed, a very pretty tinkling sound that belied her eager expression. "I heard that they actually gave you some electric shocks on your manhood. Is that true? That must have been _very _painful. Maybe I should take a look, in a purely professional capacity of course. I expect you have a few electrical burns down there don't you?"

Richard was horror struck, the woman was practically salivating. He reflected that a small number of nurses probably went into the profession because of an unhealthy fascination with pain and suffering. It was just his luck to get lumbered with one of that kind.

"I've already been checked out thank you," he said, in the briskest tone he could manage. "Now I wonder if I can ask you a few questions about what happened back at the hospital."

"Okay, ask away, we can always save the other stuff for later can't we?" she said calmly, while deftly finishing off his wrist bandage.

"Er, well maybe," Richard replied, warily. "Anyway, I'd like to know when you last saw Johnson alive."

"Yes I thought you'd ask that. It was about half past eight and I was wondering if he was awake, he might have needed some pain medication, you see, but he was asleep. So I just checked his chart. He was definitely breathing though. Actually, it must have been just before half past because, when I came out, the agent had got back and he asked..."

"What do you mean, got back? He wasn't there when you went in?"

"No, I don't think so."

"You need to be sure."

"Yes, I'm sure," she said after a moment's thought.

"Was that the only time you went into Johnson's room?"

"Yes."

"All right, you can leave now, thank you," Richard said as he got to his feet.

"Are you sure you don't..."

"Yes, I'm sure," Richard cut in hastily as he held the door open.

"You know where to find me if you need to talk," she said as she left looking a little disgruntled.

"What's up with you?" asked the agent on the door.

"Hmmm, oh nothing, she was just a bit..." Richard's voice trailed off. "Never mind. Look I need you to get the list of agents who were on Johnson's door, and you can let the nurses go."

As he waited he tried hard not to think about the patients at the hospital who had to put up with Nurse Evans on a daily basis.

"Barrett?"

He looked up and took the list from the agent. There were three names on the list but only one was of interest to Richard, Dave Taylor the man who'd been on duty from 8.00 til 10.00.

"Idiot," he muttered under his breath. "Leaving Johnson unguarded like that, looks like that's when they got to him."

* * *

><p>Without much hope Craig hammered on yet another door. He saw the curtains twitch and knew that he was being watched. He banged again and then again. He was feeling incredibly frustrated and he decided that he would continue to knock until either someone answered or the door fell down. The watcher seemed to realise he was not going to give up and the door was at last opened.<p>

"What do you want? Because whatever you are selling I am not interested," said the statuesque, haughty looking brunette who had finally answered his knock.

Stirling turned on his considerable charm,

"I'm terribly sorry to bother you, I'm actually looking for this young lady." He held up the drawing Richard had sent over. "Her name is Sonja, do you know her?"

"I've seen her around but we keep ourselves pretty much to ourselves around here. I think she lives across the street, at least 10 or 15 houses along."

"OK, thank you for your time," Craig said, as the woman closed the door very firmly.

He sighed, crossed the road and walked down a few houses to where Sharron was about to go up the path of yet another property.

"I don't know why but I feel very uneasy. Something isn't right and I just can't put my finger on what it is," he told her.

"I've got that same feeling," she responded. "But, as we have no idea of the cause, all we can do is keep going and stay on our guard."

With that she turned and marched up the path. She stood for a moment to compose herself before knocking on the door. She didn't have to wait long before a man answered.

"Look, I was on the overnight flight..." he said as his face came into view. He looked decidedly grumpy. However, after a rather obvious double take, his expression changed. "Oh, I'm terribly sorry."

"That's all right," Sharron replied. "I didn't mean to disturb you, it's just that I really need to find Sonja Temnikova."

"Don't worry about it, I never mind being woken up by a pretty young girl." The man winked at her.

Sharron sighed inwardly. "Do you know her, sir?"

"What was the name again Sweetpea?"

She took a deep breath. "Temnikova, Sonja..."

"Sharron."

She looked to her left, Craig was a few doors down. He was pointing at the next house along. _'Oh thank the Lord,'_Sharron thought.

"Thank you for your time sir, I think my colleague may have found her."

"Not at all," the man said in a tone he obviously thought was alluring. "Anytime you fancy coming round and..." his voice tailed away as he realised he was talking to her back.

"This is definitely the place, but I don't think there's anyone home," said Craig, as Sharron approached.

He saw Agent Taylor walking towards them and lowered his voice,

"I've listened and I'm certain the place is empty. We're gonna have to break in. Can you distract Taylor while I deal with the lock?"

"Of course," smiled Sharron standing in front of Craig to mask what he was doing as she turned to speak to the other agent.

Stirling shrugged off the feeling of danger that suddenly swept over him and concentrated on breaking the lock.

"Well would you look at that," he exclaimed, "the door was open all along."

He strode through the door with the other two following in his wake.

They spread out, checking each room, but there was no sign of Sonja. After a few minutes the three of them met up in the kitchen. Sharron looked down at the half full cup on the table, then put her hand against the kettle, which stood next to her.

"It's warm. She's just left."

"Out back," Craig said, heading out of the door and through the garden. "Taylor, check the shed," he added as he opened the gate that led onto a private road lined with garages. It ran in both directions. He ran one way, Sharron the other. A short while later they both returned, both empty-handed.

"She's not in the shed," Taylor said as he joined them.

"There's a surprise," muttered Stirling under his breath.

"She must have seen you across the street," Sharron said to Craig.

"Dammit!"

"Well, it can't be helped," she added. "We should search this place properly."

"Right," said Taylor, enthusiastically.

"Hang on," Stirling cut in. "What was the house number?"

"45."

In front of them was a garage. A sign reading '45' hung on the frame. Craig nodded to Sharron who moved to distract Taylor once more.

"So how did you find this place?" she asked as she walked back towards the back garden, drawing him with her.

"Barrett gave me the address, so a few of us tried to track you down. When I couldn't find you I thought maybe you were already here and might need some back up."

She heard the garage door swing open.

"She should really learn to lock up," Craig said as he lifted it up. Inside was what he had hoped he would find, a white Alpha Romeo.

"Taylor, this is Barrett's car will you drive it to the police station near the hotel? See if they can get any prints off it. Sharron can take your car, right?"

"Sure, it's rented."

Craig looked in the back, there was broken glass on the seat.

"There's a bullet hole in the bumper," Sharron said with a grimace.

"Taylor, don't tell Barrett we've found his car, he doesn't know he's lost it yet."

"Right," the agent replied as he found the keys under the driver's seat.

"Oh and Taylor," said Craig, "Get a team up here fast. If Sonja only just left there could be some information here we could use."

"That's right," the other man said. "I'd better stick around. I'll call for back up from the young lady's phone and then help you look around. I can drive the car to the police station when the rest of the men arrive."

"OK, you make that call then start in the bedroom, Sharron and I will look downstairs," Stirling said, resigning himself to the inevitable.

Once inside the house Taylor headed straight up the stairs.

"Where are you going, I need you to make that call first," said Craig.

"There's an extension in the bedroom. I can make it from there," replied the agent.

"How do you know that?" asked the American.

Taylor looked momentarily disconcerted but replied easily enough, "I saw it when we were searching the place before."

As soon as the agent was out of sight Craig took Sharron by the arm and led her into the kitchen.

"I don't know about you but that feeling of uneasiness I had before has been getting worse and worse. There's something not right about the set up and I just can't put my finger on what it is," he said.

"I feel just the same," replied Sharron. "I still can't pinpoint why though either, and we mustn't let it interfere with what we need to do. Let's just get the search over with shall we?"

"Okay, I'll take the front room, you look around in here."

Craig walked into the living room and quickly scanned the tabletops, all of which were clear. He headed for the desk by the window and started opening drawers. They were filled with old bills, Christmas cards and other useless items. What he was looking for was an address book but, after searching all the drawers, he came up empty. On a hunch he pulled the desk away from the wall. Looking down the back of it he didn't find what he'd been looking for, but he did find something else that might be almost as useful. As he reached behind the desk Sharron came into the room.

"Did you find something?" she asked.

"Sure did," Craig replied as he straightened up, a passport in his hand. "You?"

"Nothing."

Stirling started flipping through the pages while Sharron looked over his shoulder.

"I guess she took off in such a hurry that she forgot to check she had it with her," Craig said as he examined each page.

"Now that's interesting," Sharron said, pointing to one of the stamps. "The day before you and Richard got picked up she went to Paris."

"I bet that wasn't for a holiday."

"Well, it was a short one if it was," she replied.

"One thing I've been puzzling over is how she knew what Richard looked like, she was definitely giving _him_ the eye that night, not me. Yet the boss didn't know who was who and neither did Johnson."

"You think she went to Paris to meet a contact and he showed her Richard's picture?"

"I'm willing to bet on it. Now I say we finish up here and then we'd better go and investigate the last couple of places on that list Tremayne gave us. I doubt we'll find anything but we need to check all the same."

* * *

><p><em><strong><span>WARNING:<span> 'The Karpov code' now carries an M rating (for violence). _**Because of this it is 'invisible' on the default Champions' fanfiction page. If you want to continue reading the story and not miss new chapters as they are published we suggest that you either subscribe to story alerts or send us a private message asking us to let you know when each new chapter is published. Alternatively you could leave a signed review for this story and we will contact you via fanfiction as we publish each new chapter. **_  
><strong>_

To access the next and subsequent chapters (once they are published) either: scroll down until you see a blue drop down box on the bottom right of the page (or scroll up until you see the same drop down box on the right of the page just above the title) and click 'next' on the right of the box OR click on the down arrow to the right of the chapter number in the blue box and select the desired chapter.


	13. Chapter 13

CHAPTER 13 -Two old bats, a wet blanket and a psychopath.

The moment Richard returned to his room he rang reception and ordered the most expensive meal he could find on the menu. Under the circumstances he didn't think Tremayne would object. Immediately that was done he headed for the bathroom.

Standing in front of the mirror he took off his tie, then his shirt. Most of the burns were healing rapidly, he was relieved to see, although they still looked red and angry. The one near his belt was a mess. It wasn't looking quite so bad as it had before but it was still bleeding. He wasn't sure quite how to treat a burn as bad as this one so he thought he'd better leave it. Then he checked out his arms, also still bleeding he noted. He took a deep breath. He wasn't sure if he wanted to know the rest.

He looked down and hesitated, screwing his eyes shut and gripping the bathroom sink with both hands. He still hurt, he knew that and he didn't like the way this was making his head spin. He took another deep breath, unbuckled his belt and pulled his trousers down. Much of the bruising on his legs had faded, although he could still make out the stitching of the cricket ball on his thigh and his right shin had seen better days. He stared at it for a while, putting off the inevitable, then looked up into the mirror. His face was almost back to normal, which was quite a relief. Still staring into the mirror he removed his underwear, wincing slightly as the cloth pulled away from his skin. He looked down, trying to be as matter of fact as he could. There was some bruising and redness but the burns seemed to have mostly healed over. He checked everything over as quickly as possible while trying not to cause himself too much pain, then put his hands back on to the sink and closed his eyes.

Not as bad as it could have been, he supposed, but he was starting to feel rather sick and he was breathing very fast. He struggled to get himself under control, fighting back thoughts he'd rather not deal with.

"Hello Sunshine."

Richard spun round, his fists up, eyes wide.

There was no-one there.

It was a moment before he could move. Slowly he let out the breath he'd been holding, and fought against the urge to check his bedroom. He knew Frankie wasn't there, the man was locked up somewhere, but that just meant he was hearing voices, which was hardly a comfort. His eyes still glued to the doorway Richard slowly pulled up his underwear and trousers and then, despite his best efforts to dismiss his fears, he walked cautiously to the door, his heart rate rising alarmingly. He looked into the room. Nobody was there. He was angry with himself, what the hell was wrong with him?

He felt like he had as a kid when he knew there were no monsters in his room but still had to check before he could go to sleep.

Gritting his teeth Richard walked purposefully through his room and into Craig's. He yanked the wardrobe doors open, ignoring the lurch in his stomach as he did so, and searched for a clean shirt. Finding one, he pulled it on and headed back into the main room to wait for his meal to arrive.

He wondered if he should take a look through the photos again while he waited, and maybe try to get all the facts and suspicions he'd accumulated clear in his mind, but he was afraid he'd get too engrossed and have to break off when the food arrived.

The phone rang and a voice on the other end informed him that they were terribly sorry but things were very busy in the kitchen at the moment and would he prefer to wait twenty minutes for the meal he'd ordered or have a sandwich instead. Richard decided to wait. He replaced the receiver and sat on his bed, realising just how tired he was. He decided that the best use he could make of the time was to try and grab a little sleep.

He lay down on his bed and closed his eyes. Instantly a picture of Frankie's grinning face came into his head. Richard leapt up from the bed and started to pace around the room. He'd heard of soldiers who experienced this sort of thing after they'd been through the war. He remembered hearing that, every time they closed their eyes, they had flashbacks and that many were afraid to sleep because of the terrible nightmares they had. He was aware that some of them had been so filled with despair that they'd taken their own lives and others had been driven mad. He was starting to panic now, what if it happened to him? What if every time he closed his eyes he saw Doyle? What if his dreams were filled with the man? How would he bear it? He tried to force his mind onto a more pleasant memory. That of Frankie screaming in agony after Richard had hurled the cricket ball at him. Recalling the tiny amount of revenge he'd been able to exact did make him feel a little better.

He lay down again, he wasn't going to let Doyle do this to him. Concentrating hard on picturing his tormentor writhing on the floor in pain, Richard closed his eyes once more. It was working and he started to believe that he would be able to sleep. The mental image changed abruptly and, instead of Frankie's screams, he heard his own voice crying out in agony, muffled by the gag that was in his mouth. He could see Doyle's grinning face in front of him, the device in his hand. He could hear his tormentor saying, 'Let's try number 3 this time, Sunshine, just to make sure you know that no-one messes with my family and gets away with it.'

He could see the device getting closer and closer to his groin. He tried desperately to get away and he could feel the skin on his wrists tearing again and blood running down his arms as he yanked at the ropes trying to free himself. He could hear Frankie's laughter ringing in his ears. And then all he could see was the device, seeming to grow larger and larger as it approached, getting nearer and nearer. He wanted to look away but he couldn't. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't pass out. He couldn't take this any more. He heard Doyle laughing as he held the device close to him, choosing his spot carefully, dragging out the moment. He whispered in Richard's ear how much he enjoyed watching the way he shook, how he loved hearing him beg. He laughed again.

"I've broken you," he said.

Barrett jerked awake. He was in a cold sweat, gasping for breath, staring around the room, shaking uncontrollably. Exhausted he collapsed back on to the bed and screwed his eyes shut, pressing the heels of his palms into them.

Seconds later he jumped as he heard a knock at the door. Swearing under his breath, he swung his legs off the bed and got up. He felt a little unsteady but he braced himself and went to the door where he found a young man holding a tray.

"Your steak sir."

"Oh, yes. Thank you, just put it on the table."

Barrett went to his bedside table and found some money for a tip. As he handed the cash over he was grateful the man didn't comment on the way his hand shook.

"Thank you," he said as the other man left.

Richard stared at the steak. Suddenly he wasn't hungry. The very idea of eating made him feel sick. Instead he picked up the phone and dialed.

"Hello?"

"Mac? It's Richard Barrett. I need to ask you a couple of questions."

"No problem."

"When you drove me back to the hotel was it just Harrison who stayed with you?"

"Yes it was," Mac replied.

"And how long were you at the hotel before Miss Macready arrived?"

'Twenty minutes… half an hour maybe."

"Did Harrison call any one?" Richard asked.

"No."

"Right. Did you talk much with him?"

"Not really, just about what to order from room service. I'm not going to be charged for that am I? It's just since he wouldn't let me leave I thought..."

"He didn't want you to leave?"

"No, he said..."

"That's great."

"Er, all right." Mac paused. "Have you spoken to Eddie?"

"Sorry, no. I'll probably have to at some point. Why? Have you decided that you want to see him?"

"If that's OK."

"It's not up to me, but I'll see what I can do."

"Thanks."

"You're welcome. Goodbye then."

Richard put down the phone and sat down. Maybe if he tried the food he'd be able to eat it. He cut into the steak and felt slightly sick at the sight of the pinkish meat and the juice running from it. He pushed the plate to one side angrily. He had to find something to do to take his mind off what he'd been through in that cellar.

The most important thing now was to work out the identity of the mole within Nemesis. Obviously he, Craig and Sharron were in the clear. The only other person he was sure of was Harrison. The man had missed too many opportunities to have Richard recaptured for him to be anything but on the level. Barrett picked up the phone and requested a long distance call to Tremayne in Geneva. He cradled the phone and dialled the direct line to the Nemesis temporary base in London, in use for the duration of this case. He asked that Harrison be sent to see him as soon as possible.

While he waited for the call to Geneva and Harrison's arrival he took out the photos he'd gathered of all the protagonists in this mission and started to make notes of all the known information about each one. He shuddered slightly as he got to the picture of the boss but forced himself to continue.

He'd just finished writing all the facts that he knew about the man when his call to Geneva came through. Richard gave Tremayne a list of questions he needed answers to: the names of all staff that were in London just before he and Craig had been ambushed the first time and of everyone who was on leave at that time, along with information about where they'd gone if they'd left Geneva. He also wanted full surveillance reports on the cryptographers that worked for Nemesis and their associates. Tremayne promised to get back to him as soon as he could with detailed information. Fortuitously he'd just been dealing with the agents' pay for that month so was able to supply a list of agents that had been on holiday and even knew where some of them had spent their leave.

As Barrett put the phone down Harrison arrived. Richard asked him to go to the police station and check with the local constabulary about any prior convictions the four men in custody had and, at the same time, pick up their statements.

Barrett checked the notes he'd made while speaking to Tremayne. He felt momentarily excited when he saw that one of the agents who'd been on leave had been Taylor. His hopes were dashed when he read the information that the man hadn't been in London when he and Craig had been abducted, he'd been in Paris. That indicated that it was likely to have been just carelessness at the hospital that had led the man to leave his post, and not something more sinister. He could make nothing of any of the other names on the list so decided to return to the task that he'd started earlier.

Richard picked up the remainder of the photos and gradually worked through them all. He soon became so absorbed in the task that seeing Frankie's face leering up at him from the last photo caused him much less discomfort than he'd feared.

He was now extremely tired and, as there was no more he could do until the information he needed arrived, he lay down on his bed to sleep. He'd just started to doze off when a call came through from Harrison.

"Barrett, all the priors on the four relate to bank jobs and stuff like that, nothing like this case at all. The only information about any other type of job is something Carter mentioned - he's remembered the name of one of the boss' victims and it's a high-ranking civil servant. I'm on my way back now but I thought I should ring the information through straight away."

"Thanks Harrison, you did the right thing."

Richard lay down to sleep again, experiencing a grateful thought that the work he'd just done seemed to have purged Doyle's image from his mind - at least for the time being.

* * *

><p>A little while later Craig and Sharron came into the room. As Stirling had predicted, they'd found nothing at any of the places they'd just checked out. They would have preferred to leave their colleague sleeping but, when they tried to decipher his handwritten notes on the pictures they found that it wasn't possible, so they decided to wake him as gently as they could.<p>

Stirling poked his head around the bedroom door. Barrett was lying on his back, an arm across his eyes blocking the light from the window.

"Richard," he said quietly as he approached.

There was no sign that the other man had heard so the American sat on the bed and shook his friend's arm gently. The sleeping man mumbled something unintelligible. Stirling tried again, harder this time. After a few seconds Barrett shifted slightly and then suddenly he was awake, his arm flailing.

"It's me," Craig said quickly and it only took a moment for Richard to get his bearings.

"Oh," he began, "sorry."

"No problem."

Sharron appeared at Craig's shoulder.

"How are you doing?" she asked.

"Fine," Richard replied a little too quickly. "Really," he added with emphasis.

"Is that why you're wearing my shirt?" Stirling asked pointedly.

"I've always liked this shirt."

"Come on," Sharron cut in. "Take it off."

Richard looked at Sharron for a moment.

"She's awfully keen to get my clothes off," he said, raising his eyebrows and exchanging a knowing look with Craig.

"Oh, I think he's all right Sharron, he's making stupid jokes again. All the same Richard, I think you should let her take a look just to be sure everything's healing properly." Stirling said, getting to his feet.

Richard sighed dramatically but, realising that he was outnumbered, he started to take off his shirt.

"So, how did it go with Mrs. Hunter?" Sharron asked, as she sat down.

"Oh yeah, thanks for that, a real treat. And the nurses... two old bats, a wet blanket and a psychopath."

"Richard!" Sharron sounded a little scandalised. "The one I interviewed was really nice."

"Oh good," Barrett replied, still sounding a bit put out. "Anyway, the frightening one had something interesting to say. Apparently she went to check on Johnson and there was nobody on the door, anybody could have walked in. And, by the way, it was Herapin that Johnson was given that caused him to bleed to death, they told me when I rang the hospital."

"That's readily available," Sharron said, as she took a look at Richard's arms. "And it can take a variable amount of time to have an effect, depending on the dose and the patient."

"And anybody could have walked in so that doesn't get us much further then. How about you? You find anything? Ow!" Barrett looked down at his arm. "Why do doctors always make things worse?" he asked.

"Stop moaning Richard," Craig said, trying to make light of it as much for his own benefit as his friend's. He was having trouble looking at the patchwork of freshly healed burns. He could feel the anger building and was regretting not rearranging Frankie's face when he'd had the chance. The small, round marks he could see were obviously from cigarettes and, for some reason, the thought of his friend being used as an ashtray upset him the most. He forced his mind back on to the mission.

"Sonja had gone by the time we got to the house. Only just though, we left Taylor checking out the place..."

"Taylor? That was Taylor?" Richard asked.

"Yes, why?"

"He was the one who was supposed to be guarding Johnson's door."

"And he was in Sonja's street before we were," Sharron cut in.

"He could have warned her," added Craig, "and killed Johnson, he might have been disposing of the evidence when that nurse turned up."

"I thought about him too, but it can't be. He wasn't in London before we got picked up and so he couldn't have met with Sonja."

"You don't happen to know where he was?" Stirling asked slowly.

"Yes, on leave, in Paris."

Craig's face broke into a broad smile as he took Sonja's passport out of his pocket. He opened it and showed Richard the stamp from Aeroport de Paris Nord.

His colleague smiled back. "Bingo."

"Except that we don't just want Taylor, we also need his boss," said Craig.

"I may have an idea. We could kill two birds with one stone," Richard said.

"Am I going to like this plan?" asked Craig.

"Probably not. Not sure I do either and, if you can come up with a better one, I'm all ears, but for now it's all I've got."

* * *

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* * *

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	14. Chapter 14

CHAPTER 14 - Hang on tight!

At quarter past ten the next morning Barrett walked into the hotel room that the agents were using as a common room. He looked around. It was empty apart from one man.

"Where is everyone?" Richard asked.

"Staking out a fresh lead."

"Oh." Barrett paused. "I... er...need someone to drive me over to Clapham. I don't fancy running into trouble with no back up at the moment."

"Not surprised, mate," the man said.

"Would _you_ mind?"

"Not at all. I'll need to clear it with my boss but I'm sure it'll be okay. Just give me a few minutes and then we'll go."

"I need to get my jacket so I'll meet you in the foyer," Richard said as he turned to leave. "Sorry, what's your name?"

"Dave, Dave Taylor."

"Right, see you in ten minutes."

Richard went back up to his room to let his two friends know that Taylor appeared to have fallen into their trap. Craig and Sharron had ordered food in his absence and it had just arrived.

"He's swallowed the bait then, that's great," said Stirling, his mouth full of toast.

He was eating with obvious enjoyment and Richard was finding it hard to concentrate because the blood red strawberry jam liberally plastered over Craig's toast was making his wrists hurt.

"Yes, I'm to meet him in the foyer in ten minutes," said Barrett.

"OK we'll be ready," said Sharron.

"Do you want some toast before you go, you haven't eaten anything this morning have you?" Craig asked.

Richard glanced down and noticed that a little of the jam had spilled onto the tablecloth. The resemblance to drops of blood brought back memories he didn't want to deal with right now.

"Er no that's all right, I'm not very hungry," he said.

His treacherous stomach gave a rumble that belied his words but neither of his colleagues commented, sensing that it wasn't lack of hunger that had caused their friend to refuse.

"I'd better get down to the foyer then, see you later," he said.

Craig and Sharron exchanged a concerned glance as Richard left the room.

"I wish we could have put the plan into operation last night," Sharron said.

"Me too, but you know that we had no choice but to wait until Dave Taylor was back on duty. It had to look as if it was pure chance that he was the one who was asked for a lift."

"'Yes, of course, but the wait hasn't done Richard any good. I still can't believe Taylor had gone off duty just five minutes before we were ready to go last night."

"Me neither, such bad timing. And then, this morning, he gets sent straight out. I thought Richard was going to explode. Still it could have been worse, the man could have been out of contact all day," Craig said.

"That's true but, after the enforced overnight wait, the extra two hour hold-up this morning was very hard on Richard's nerves…and ours too," Sharron added.

"Richard's tough, he'll be fine. Besides, he and I had hardly had any sleep since we were in that bar the night Sonja picked him up and, as you pointed out last night, we needed the rest anyway. You'd missed out on a fair bit of sleep yourself too, " Craig said. "Even super-humans get tired you know," he finished, trying to raise a smile from his companion. The attempt failed, Sharron was too concerned to be amused.

"Yes, I know. But none of us slept very well last night did we? Richard was especially restless, I'm really worried about him. Remind me," Sharron continued, "Why are we doing this?"

"Because we couldn't think of anything better."

"Oh yes, that's a good reason! What if this goes wrong?"

"I'm not even thinking about the possibility," her colleague said as he polished off the last of the toast. "Come on, let's go."

Sharron sighed quietly and followed him out of the room and down the back stairs.

Outside they found Harrison sitting in his car near the hotel garage.

"We're on," Craig told him. "Keep behind us and, whatever happens, don't let Taylor out of your sight."

"Right," replied Harrison looking a little tense.

The two agents walked over to Stirling's car and got in. A couple of minutes later another car pulled out of the garage. Taylor was driving, Barrett was in the passenger seat. Neither Craig nor Sharron mentioned it but it was hard not to pick up on the emotions coming from their friend. All the time they'd sat in the hotel planning this out he'd tried to pretend it didn't bother him. They hadn't believed him then, and they certainly didn't now, but there was no backing out of this.

Craig gave the blue Rover time to turn and head down the road and then pulled out. Looking in the rear view mirror he saw Harrison do the same.

* * *

><p>As the journey wore on Barrett began to relax a little. Taylor appeared to be doing exactly as he'd been asked and Richard was beginning to wonder if they'd made a mistake and the man was on the level. That would mean they'd have to start again, collating all the evidence to try and see who else might have acted suspiciously. He saw that the traffic lights up ahead were just about to change from green and watched as the man seated beside him slowed down in preparation to stop. Just as they were almost on top of the lights Taylor shouted,<p>

"Hang on tight!"

He put his foot down hard on the accelerator and swung the car into a side road on the left. A cacophony of horns sounded in protest but Taylor carried on down the road, taking another sharp left turn at the end and then proceeded to drive down a myriad of side roads.

"What the hell are you playing at?" asked Barrett, white faced and unable to stop himself from shaking.

"Sorry, I'm sure we were being followed. I think we've lost them but I just need to make certain. Wouldn't do for you to get kidnapped again now would it?" Taylor explained as he continued to drive.

"Right," Richard replied hoarsely. "I wondered if they might have had the hotel watched."

"Well don't you worry, I'm very good at losing people," the other man said as he stopped at another light. "I'll take a round about way to Clapham in case they know where we're heading."

"Great," said Barrett, trying to sound relieved.

As they sat at the lights Richard glanced around and found what he was looking for. He read the street name and, as they pulled away, he closed his eyes and concentrated hard, filling his mind with a mental image of the sign he'd seen.

"Hey are you OK?"

Barrett opened his eyes again. "Yes, I'm fine. You're sure we were being followed?"

"Pretty sure," Taylor replied. "I'll cut through here, it'll get us back to the South Circular."

As they turned into a side street Richard caught the name and started to concentrate on it. It was possible that Taylor wasn't working for the gang and had genuinely thought that Barrett was in danger, but Richard didn't think he was that lucky. He was beginning to regret agreeing with Craig when it came to electronic devices, he wouldn't be in quite so much trouble if he had a tracker in the car. As they made their way down the narrow street Richard found himself suddenly becoming very tense, but he wasn't sure if it was because he sensed danger or if he was merely picking up Craig and Sharron's emotions. He had his answer moments later when a car swung across their path. Taylor slammed the brakes on. Before Barrett could get the door open he felt something ram into his ribs. He looked down to confirm that it was a gun.

"They must be paying you a lot of money Taylor," he said quietly as he watched three men approach. Taylor didn't reply.

Moments later Richard was dragged out of the car and thrown face first over the bonnet. He wanted to fight back but the gun was still pointing at him. Then his arms were yanked behind his back. As two men handcuffed him, another taped his mouth. He repeated the name of the street over and over in his mind as they spun him round and began dragging him towards the other car.

In the end he couldn't stop himself, he started to try to break away, convinced that this had all gone terribly wrong. The two men tightened their grip as the other opened the boot. There was little Barrett could do to help himself. They shoved him in head first, then held his ankles as they shackled them as well. As he desperately tried to fight them off they swung his legs into the boot and bent them at the knees, before using a third pair of cuffs to link the ones at his hands and feet. When they let go, his knees straightened involuntarily, causing his feet to move downwards and he winced as the metal around his wrists dug into his flesh.

He tried to concentrate on the street name but he couldn't think properly. Over the rushing sound in his ears he could hear the men talking.

"I think I was followed, I'm coming with you." That was Taylor's voice.

"The boss won't like that."

"I don't give a damn, I think they're on to me and I'm not sticking around to find out if I'm right."

"Fine, get in."

Richard looked up at two of the men. He saw one of them draw back his fist a moment before it slammed into his jaw and everything went black.

One of the men blindfolded Barrett deftly then slammed the boot shut.

* * *

><p>It wasn't long before Richard began to recover consciousness, it took him a few moments to register what had happened to him.<p>

_'Hancuffed, shackled AND blindfolded,_' he thought _'they certainly don't intend to take any chances'._

He flexed his arms and legs experimentally before deciding that he could gain just enough slack to break the link in the chain that connected the cuffs at his wrists. He realised it was going to hurt like hell, because of the state his wrists were in, but he was willing to put up with that pain to give himself a fighting chance of escape. He wondered briefly where they were taking him and where he was now. He didn't know how long he'd been unconscious so he couldn't be sure that they were even still in London. He could tell from the way he was bouncing about that the surfaces they were travelling over weren't very smooth so he surmised that they were off the main roads. He brought his hands as close together as he could and was pleased that there was a little more slack than he'd anticipated. Richard took a deep breath, trying to psych himself up to try to break the chain at his wrists. He paused for a second, because the car seemed to be jerking about rather more than before, then he felt it give a considerable lurch, his head banged hard against the floor of the boot and he lost consciousness for the second time that day.

* * *

><p>When Richard woke up again it didn't take him long to get his bearings. The good news was that the car was still moving so they hadn't yet reached their destination and, he was certain, an inevitable meeting with their boss. The bad news was that, if Craig and Sharron had lost him, they wouldn't be finding him any time soon. He took a moment to calm his mind, searching for any sign that his friends were near. He strained to detect a stray thought from one of them. When that proved fruitless he listened for the sound of another car following. As he did so he felt the car that he was in slow down and come to a halt. He held his breath, listening for the sound of the doors opening or footsteps. It took him a moment to notice that it was unnaturally quiet. There were no other cars, no sounds of people. He realised that they definitely weren't in London any more and his heart sank.<p>

He had no idea how long he'd been unconscious. Quite a while if the arm he was lying on was anything to go by, it was almost completely numb. On the face of it this was a mercy since his other arm was more than making up for it in the pain department. He shifted his feet further towards his back and jammed them against the side of the boot, relieving the pressure of the handcuffs at his wrists. Before he'd left, Sharron had insisted on applying extra bandages, 'just in case', and he was glad she had.

He felt the car start to move forward again and he returned to the issue of trying to get out of the situation he found himself in. Again he pulled his hands together, gritted his teeth and pulled them apart as hard as he could. Just as he did so the car hit another bump in the road, throwing him off a little. The result was that the handcuffs were still intact and Richard was close to passing out from the pain.

He almost threw up as he battled to stay conscious. He had to get out of these restraints or he was as good as dead. Changing tack he tried to grab hold of the handcuffs connecting his hands to his feet. Only one hand was working fully so he concentrated on getting a good grip with it. When he was sure he was ready he simultaneously pulled up with his hand and down with his feet. Nothing happened, he couldn't get enough power to break the chain at that angle. Although, he supposed, he could possibly get his arms in front of him and try again. This wasn't going to be easy, given the state of his wrists and the way he was lurching about every time the car turned or hit a pothole, but he suspected he had sufficient motivation to do it.

Richard bent his legs as much as he could, his knees against his chin, and attempted to move the handcuff chain under his feet. It hurt like hell, pulling continually at his wrists, and he was making little progress. He paused for a second to get his breath and tried to force his shoes off but they were laced too tight. Then he gave another gargantuan effort, finally hooking the chain under his heels. It was at this point that he realised the car had stopped. As he desperately tried to pull the handcuffs the rest of the way he heard the car doors opening and the men's voices getting louder. Screaming into the gag he pulled as hard as he could, but the chain was caught between the heel and the rest of his shoe.

Even with his eyes blindfolded Richard noticed the change in light when the boot opened.

"What have we here?"

"What the hell's he hoping to achieve?"

"Dunno," the man laughed. "Looks kind of painful though. I should probably put him out of his misery."

Richard felt his hands yanked back behind him. He was shaking. It was a combination of pain, frustration at how close he had been, but mostly it was the fear of what might happen next. He didn't have to wait long to find out. He heard keys, then felt someone take hold of one of the chains, and finally he could straighten his legs. Before he could take advantage of his new found freedom he felt hands grab his feet, pull them out of the boot and then the rest of him was levered upright. As the men dragged him from the car he tried to listen for any clues as to where he was but could hear nothing but birdsong. He felt his feet hit a step and presumed he was being taken inside a building. A moment later he heard a door open and the sounds changed as he was marched inside. Eventually his captors stood him upright and let go. As he fought to keep his balance he heard a familiar voice.

"What are you doing here?" said Sonja.

"They're on to me," replied Taylor. "Where's your boss?"

"Next door."

Richard felt blood run down his hands as he heard the door shut and the sound of high heels on concrete. It was very quiet in the room and the Nemesis man wondered if he'd actually been left alone while the boss was informed he'd been recaptured. He tried to listen for any sounds that would indicate the presence of someone else. If he were alone he might have a chance to break the chain on the cuffs. At the very least he'd be able kneel down and use the floor to slide the blindfold off his eyes. Unfortunately the only things he could hear really clearly were his own breath, coming fast and short, his heartbeat pounding in his chest, and a drumming noise in his ears - all sounds caused by the panic he was feeling about what the boss was going to do to him. Was he alone or not? Still did it really matter that much, what had he got to lose anyway? He might as well try to get the blindfold off. He started to drop to his knees.

As his knees hit the concrete he thought he heard something.

"Where do you think you're going?" said a voice. Richard recognised it as belonging to one of the men from the car. He heard the scrape of a chair leg and then footsteps. He tried to get up.

"No, no. You stay down there."

He felt the chains round his ankles tighten and presumed the man had put his foot on them. He tensed, expecting a blow at any moment, but it didn't come. As he struggled to deal with the adrenalin rushing through him he once again reached out with his mind to Craig and Sharron but it was hard to stay focused and his own emotions drowned out everything else. As he tried once more he heard the door open and the sound of high heels - Sonja. He didn't think that anybody else was with her.

"Are you tormenting Mr. Barrett?" Sonja asked the man.

"I haven't touched him," he replied.

"Get up."

Richard supposed she was talking to him and felt the chain slacken. He rocked back on to his feet and straightened up.

"You've healed well."

As she spoke she stroked the side of his face gently. He pulled his head away. "I wonder what the rest of you looks like? The word on the street is that Frankie got a bit carried away."

Richard felt her loosen his tie and swallowed down the humiliation he was feeling.

"You know, my boss isn't very happy with you," she added as she undid the top button, then ran her finger down his chest to the next. "He doesn't like it when things are taken out of his hands. Professional pride I suppose."

As Sonja caressed him, Richard, to his chagrin, found his body reacting to her touch. Until this moment he had been unaware of just how much Doyle's taunting about the potential loss of his manhood had got to him. The overwhelming sense of relief he felt when he realised that his injuries were only superficial, and that being close to a pretty girl had the same effect on him that it always had, brought home to him just how scared he'd been.

Unfortunately he didn't have long to enjoy his discovery. For one thing he was nowhere near fully healed so he was still pretty sore and his growing excitement was making things worse. For another, it was humiliating to think that Sonja could affect him this way despite him knowing exactly what sort of a woman she was. She undid the next button slowly and seductively, then stopped as the door opened once more. Richard's relief that she was no longer coming on to him was short lived.

"Sonja, leave him alone." The boss's voice was unmistakable. Immediately the arousal that Richard had felt vanished and his heart rate soared. He wished he could stop shaking but his body betrayed him.

"She's right you know Barrett," the man continued. "My clients have insisted that they take over and I don't take kindly to that, not kindly at all. Still, I've got you for a little while longer."

Richard tensed as he heard the man walk towards him. He could tell that the boss was standing directly in front of him, enjoying making him wait for the inevitable. With no warning the Nemesis man felt a hand push into his chest. He had no chance to stay upright and no way to break his fall. For a split second all he could think about was the fact he'd break his arms. He anticipated how it would feel when he hit the concrete. He braced himself for the impact.

And then his back hit a wall. Richard heard laughter as he leaned into it, breathing hard. He can't have been standing much more than a foot away. Just as his body began to relax fractionally a fist drove into his stomach and he collapsed to the floor. Suddenly his hands were yanked upwards, forcing his head down. The man kept going, pulling up until Barrett could feel the skin tearing.

"I don't even care if you tell me the code any more. My clients will get it out of you anyway," the boss said and aimed a vicious kick into Richard's side.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Your help is needed!<strong>_

_We have just started work on a new feature length story. Reviews of 'The Karpov Code' are especially welcome right now because they will help us decide what we should include (and exclude) in our new fiction._

* * *

><p><em><strong><span>WARNING:<span> 'The Karpov code' now carries an M rating (for violence). _**Because of this it is 'invisible' on the default Champions' fanfiction page. If you want to continue reading the story and not miss new chapters as they are published we suggest that you either subscribe to story alerts or send us a private message asking us to let you know when each new chapter is published. Alternatively you could leave a signed review for this story and we will contact you via fanfiction as we publish each new chapter. **_  
><strong>_

To access the next and subsequent chapters (once they are published) either: scroll down until you see a blue drop down box on the bottom right of the page (or scroll up until you see the same drop down box on the right of the page just above the title) and click 'next' on the right of the box OR click on the down arrow to the right of the chapter number in the blue box and select the desired chapter.


	15. Chapter 15

CHAPTER 15 Nobody's punching anybody

Craig jumped as he felt the blow. He glanced quickly at Sharron and hoped that Harrison hadn't noticed.

They were crouching behind a hedgerow looking at a small building by the side of a small, grass airstrip. To the left there was a large shed with a grass roller alongside and, to the right, a couple of aircraft hangers. It wasn't much cover but it would have to be enough.

"OK," Stirling began. "We don't know if the boss is there but right now that's not our main concern. I'm presuming they're waiting for a plane. Under no circumstances can they be allowed to get Richard on board. Harrison, do you have a gun?"

The young man produced one from a holster under his shoulder.

"All right, you're with me. Sharron, you take mine." He handed her his gun. "Get yourself behind that shed over there. Harrison and I will head for behind the hangers. We'll have to be careful though, they could be watching from the building."

As he looked out at the field Craig quickly outlined his plan.

"Right is everyone clear about what we need to do?" the American asked when he'd finished explaining the course of action that he had in mind.

Harrison nodded as Sharron said,

"Yes, quite clear."

"OK, let's go," said Craig.

* * *

><p>The kick he'd received was so forceful that only the gag prevented Richard from throwing up. He tasted bile and had no choice but to swallow it back down. As he lay helplessly on the floor, wondering when the next blow would fall, he suddenly realised that fear was no longer the overriding emotion he was experiencing. His awareness that the boss was getting at least as much pleasure from mentally tormenting him as from the physical assaults, made him furiously angry. Especially since it wasn't even 'justifiable' on the grounds of making Barrett talk. Despite his position, Richard felt stronger than he had before the boss' arrival, he even allowed himself to hope that he might get out of this alive. He wasn't sure if it was his imagination or not but he was pretty sure he could hear a light aircraft approaching.<p>

"You know the best thing about this?" The boss punctuated the sentence with a sharp kick to his victim's ribs. "It's that I usually have to remain cool, calm and collected." Richard yelled in pain as the man's foot connected with his right shin. "I have to remain professional." Another kick. "Not let the other guy know if he's got to me." This time it was the Nemesis man's back. "But now..."

"They're here," said a voice. From the sound of it, the aircraft was coming in to land.

Richard lay still, waiting for a blow that never came. He heard the boss walk away from him and decided to make the most of the opportunity. He'd need his legs if he was to have any chance of escape. He bent both knees, hooked a foot around the chain and jerked one leg down with as much power he could muster, not caring what it might cost him. The pain in his ankle was worth putting up with, the chain had snapped.

"Bloody hell!" Taylor exclaimed.

"Pick him up," ordered the boss. Barrett felt hands grab his arms and he was hauled upright. "And just in case you have some stupid idea in your head about making a run for it."

Richard's legs buckled as he felt a fist slam into his groin. Momentarily unable to move his legs, or in fact breathe, he felt himself being dragged out of the door.

* * *

><p>"Are you all right?" Harrison whispered, in response to the sharp grunt of pain that had just come from his companion.<p>

"Yes," Craig said, trying to keep his voice steady, "I just knelt on something."

It was the best explanation he could think of on the spur of the moment but, the fact was, he was anything but all right.

The two of them were hiding behind one of the hangers. They watched as two men got out of an unmarked light aircraft and stood waiting. Moments later the Nemesis men saw the door to the building open. The boss stepped out followed by Sonja. Behind her Taylor, and a man Stirling didn't recognize, dragged Richard's limp body between them. From the look of things his friend wasn't going to be in any state to help them out. Behind them were two more large men. They were about forty yards from the plane, not yet far enough from the building for the Nemesis agents to make their move.

What Craig was waiting for was a distraction from Sharron. He needed the group to get a little further and then things would kick off. That moment was now very close. Unfortunately it was at this point that Barrett's head jerked up. Suddenly aware of the sound of the plane he put all his force into swinging one foot into the back of Taylor's legs. Taken by surprise the man let go, giving Richard the chance to throw the other man off and run.

Craig heard Sharron scream their friend's name just before she started firing at the group, all of whom hit the ground. The two pilots took cover behind the wheels of the plane facing away from where Stirling was waiting.

"Cover me," he whispered to Harrison as he stalked towards them.

Sharron continued to yell, causing Richard to head towards her. He was still yards from cover when she saw the boss pull a gun and take aim. He aimed low - obviously intending to bring Barrett down rather than kill him. Richard must have realised the danger because he started to zig-zag as he ran. Sharron continued to call his name to give him a bearing on her position as she watched helplessly. His inability to see didn't seem to be having a detrimental affect on his speed but it was playing hell with her nerves - at any moment he might stumble and fall over some unseen object in his path.

Sharron continued firing over their heads, causing the boss's shots to go astray. One ricocheted off the wall just in front of her. She ducked back into cover just as Barrett ran past her.

"Richard, over here!" she yelled.

He stopped suddenly and wheeled around, then hurled himself towards her. It was not a moment too soon as a series of bullets hit the ground where he'd been standing.

He was lying on the floor in a heap but at least he was out of the firing line. Sharron held her gun around the corner and fired blind, hoping to distract them enough to give Craig a chance to advance on them from behind. She could hear Richard's muffled yells behind her. She quickly looked round and saw that he was holding his hands up behind him, as far apart as he could. Sharron swung the gun round, took careful aim and fired, wincing as she did so. The chain connecting the handcuffs broke as the bullet impacted with it and, in an instant, Barrett pulled the blindfold off and jumped up. She turned her attention back to the gang. Behind her she heard a yelp and presumed Richard had just pulled the tape off his mouth.

"Give me the gun," he said.

"I don't think so."

"Fine," he replied.

He ran to the far corner of the shed and poked his head around the corner. He could see that Craig had almost reached the two men crouched by the plane who were shooting towards Sharron's position. As Richard watched he saw his friend take them out swiftly and completely. Stirling then started running towards the nearest thug. Barrrett didn't have to think twice, he ran from cover and into the thick of it.

"Richard!" yelled Sharron, her voice filled with concern.

Barrett was so intent on helping Stirling out that he barely heard her, he flung himself into the fray, fists and feet flying as he drew on all the reserves of strength and power he had.

Sharron watched, unable to get a clear shot for fear of hitting one of her friends. She shook her head a little in disbelief at Richard's action but couldn't help smiling at the same time, it was so typical of him. He'd been intimidated, tortured and humiliated, he was still in pain from all the abuse he'd suffered, and yet he hadn't hesitated to launch himself into the fight. In spite of the anxiety she was feeling she was profoundly glad to see the two men she cared most about fighting side by side, totally in tune with one another and, together, winning the battle.

As she watched she kept her eye on Sonja and the boss. The former was still on the ground, her hands held protectively over her head, she didn't appear to be armed. The boss on the other hand had been shooting at Richard earlier and was now watching the confrontation between the Nemesis men and his own with interest. She saw him bring his gun up again. This time she could see it clearly against the grass, making a perfect target for her to aim at. As he pointed his gun at her two friends she levelled her own weapon, held her breath to steady her hand and fired. A split second later the gun flew from the boss's hand and the man covered his head with his arms while searching for the source of the shot.

Having pinned him down Sharron turned her attention to the fight. Harrison had joined in and was currently sitting on one guy's chest punching him hard. Craig was struggling with two of the thugs while Richard had his hands full with Taylor. The security agent had been as well trained as Barrett but hadn't the strength and lightening reflexes of her friend. He seemed to realise this and was edging away rapidly. Behind Taylor one of the thugs had a hold of Craig while the other advanced on him, the American kicked him backwards, unfortunately straight into the oncoming Richard. As the two of them wrestled on the ground Taylor saw his chance and ran for the entrance gate.

Sharron made her way round the back of the shed and met him. She held her gun pointing straight at Taylor's head, he seemed confused as to where she'd come from.

"On the ground," she yelled, and he complied. "Hands behind your head."

She stood above him, watching the rest of the scene, while keeping an eye on Taylor. She heard the blow that knocked out the man fighting with Richard and couldn't help but flinch. A second later the boss was up and running for the car. From where she was standing she couldn't get a good shot off without risking taking her eye off Taylor; so she could do nothing but watch as Barrett took off after him. A few strides later he rugby tackled him to the ground. To her right Craig stood up and surveyed the scene. The entire gang lay in crumpled heaps around him. And then he noticed Richard.

He watched his friend aim a vicious punch to the boss's side, then his jaw. As Barrett laid into the man, Stirling stood back to allow his friend his moment, knowing that he needed to work off some of the anger and frustration he was feeling after the way he'd been treated at the boss's instigation. Craig had seen this happen before, in Wales. He also remembered the collection of 'fanatics' he'd found littering the floor after they'd discovered, the hard way, that it was a bad idea to piss off Richard Barrett. Stirling knew his friend would recover far more quickly if he were allowed to take this opportunity for a little payback.

However, realising that they needed the man conscious, he decided to step in before his fellow agent went too far. By the time Craig dragged Barrett off of him, the boss was groaning in pain and attempting to crawl away.

"Richard!" Craig yelled as he manhandled his friend away from the man who had caused him so much pain and suffering. "That's enough!"

"It's not even close!" Barrett snapped back, still staring at the man on the ground.

"I know," Stirling replied.

"He..."

"I know," he repeated, quieter this time.

Richard looked up at his friend. Craig felt him relax just a little, he'd given up fighting against his grip now. After a moment he pulled away and walked in the opposite direction, clearly still wound up. Stirling let him go.

"Don't you move," he hissed at the man lying on the round in front of him, "or I might let him have another go at you."

The boss lay still.

Harrison clambered off the man he'd knocked out and surveyed the carnage around him.

"Well I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't seen it. You two - you're amazing," he said, looking in awe at Craig and glancing over to where Richard was.

"We just work together a lot," said Stirling dismissively.

"But ...," Harrison broke off and shrugged his shoulders. "Oh never mind. So what happens now, Craig?"

"See if you can find some rope," the American said.

"Right-oh," Harrison replied and he strode towards the building by the runway.

"Taylor," Stirling snapped as he walked over to Sharron. "Get up and over there." Craig took the gun from Sharron and made the Nemesis traitor lie, face down, next to his unconscious colleagues. As he stood there he saw Harrison hurrying towards him, a large amount of rope in his hands.

"Found this," he said. "I reckon it'll work if we string them all together. Oh, and these." He held up a pair of handcuffs. "They're locked though."

"Which one of you has the keys?" Stirling asked. "Which one?"

When nobody moved he began to search the boss's pocket. Sure enough he found a small key. He took the cuffs from Harrison and unlocked them. Then he pulled the boss's hands behind him to restrain him.

"Give me that."

Craig turned to find Richard standing behind him, his hand outstretched for the key. Stirling handed it over and watched as his friend tried to fit it into what remained of the handcuffs around his wrists. He was having a lot of difficulty getting it into the lock because both of his hands were shaking considerably.

"Come on Richard," Sharron said, taking the key from him and leading him over to the steps by the plane. She sat him down, unlocked the cuffs on his wrists and ankles and started her inevitable re-bandaging.

"I'm going to buy shares in this stuff," she said, trying her best to ignore the blood stains on Richard's jacket. He winced slightly as she peeled off what was left of the last patch-up, then he looked over at Craig as he walked over, leaving Harrison standing guard.

"I'm going to call for back up, and Tremayne. They'll have to start going through those surveillance reports for any mention of Taylor," Stirling said. "Have you had any thoughts on that?"

"On what?" Richard replied.

"The cryptographers, maybe you noticed something recently, odd behaviour."

"Not really."

"Well, you know them Richard, maybe if you give it some thought..."

"You honestly think I haven't been trying to work it out?" Barrett snapped.

"Well, erm..."

"I'm not the one to ask. I know who I don't want it to be. I've known Anders for six years, Terry for four. It doesn't mean it's not them though."

"Right," Craig said.

"Maybe they didn't realise what would happen?" Sharron cut in.

"You think? They're well known for being stupid, code breakers! What the hell did they think would happen? I'm lucky I'm not dead!" Richard snapped.

"OK, you're right. Sorry, I shouldn't have brought it up." Stirling said, trying to placate his friend so he would calm down a little.

There was a momentary silence.

"I think I know who these guys work for," Craig said eventually.

"Oh?"

"They're CIA."

"What? You recognize one of them?" Sharron asked.

"No, but..." Stirling paused. "One time, when I was working for them, I was told to fly an unmarked plane to a small airstrip. We picked up some guy. It looked just like this, a carbon copy in fact. If these guys aren't the CIA then they were trained by them."

There was another awkward silence.

"I resigned just after that. That was just one of the many things I wasn't very happy about," Craig added.

"Speaking of which," Sharron said, "Tremayne's not going to be too thrilled."

"I can't say I'm over the moon," Barrett added grimly.

"Makes sense though," Stirling said. "They'd be more than a little interested in the private communications of certain UN ambassadors."

"They must think they've got some very important documents," said Sharron.

"Yes," Richard responded dryly, "aren't they going to be disappointed."

"And you did say you thought the boss had been trained in the most efficient methods of tortu..." Craig added.

"Say, could you drop me off at my car when we go back, I'd forgotten I left it at the warehouse," Richard cut in.

"Um..." Craig hesitated.

"What?"

"Well, the police might still need it," the American replied looking anywhere except at Richard.

"The police?"

"Er, yes," Sharron took over. "You see, they're dusting it for finger prints. The, er...the gang were driving it."

"Driving it."

"Yes."

"It's all right though?"

Neither of his friends replied.

"Oh God!" Richard looked a little panic stricken.

"It's just the back window," Sharron added hastily.

"The back window?"

"And the bumper. It seems our agents may have shot it."

Barrett stood up quickly. "Who was driving it?" he said, glaring at the group lying on the ground behind Craig.

"Sonja," Sharron replied.

Richard paused, apparently weighing up his options. "I don't suppose I can punch_ her_ can I?" he said eventually. The resignation in his tone making it clear that this wasn't a serious suggestion.

"Nobody's punching anybody," Stirling said as he manoeuvered Barrett back down on to the step.

He watched as his friend put his head in his hands. Craig actually wondered if he was going to break down, that maybe it was all finally too much.

"I'll go make those phone calls," the American said wanting to give his friend some space. Sharron decided that Craig was right, Richard needed a few moments alone to regroup a little, so she walked over to where Harrison was guarding the prisoners.

"Will he be okay do you think?" Harrison asked, gesturing towards Barrett.

"Yes he will, he's much tougher than most people give him credit for," Sharron said.

"You can say that again. The way he launched himself into that battle despite all the injuries he's got _and_ took those men down - well it's just amazing. Like he's superhuman or something."

Sharron suppressed a smile.

"That guy sure looks a mess," Harrison said as he pointed his gun at the boss who was lying, face down, on the grass.

Sharron nodded and was then surprised by a sudden, almost overwhelming impulse to kick the man. She decided she was probably picking up on either Craig or Richard's thoughts and changed the subject.

"Did you know Taylor well?" Sharron asked.

Harrison didn't reply for a moment.

"He's worked in Internal Security for three years," he said bitterly.

"Sounds like you'll have your work cut out for you when we get back then."

She looked up as the building door swung open and Craig emerged.

"The cavalry is on its way," he announced.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Your help is needed!<strong>_

_We have just started work on a new feature length story. Reviews of 'The Karpov Code' are especially welcome right now because they will help us decide what we should include (and exclude) in our new fiction._

* * *

><p><em><strong><span>WARNING:<span> 'The Karpov code' now carries an M rating (for violence). _**Because of this it is 'invisible' on the default Champions' fanfiction page. If you want to continue reading the story and not miss new chapters as they are published we suggest that you either subscribe to story alerts or send us a private message asking us to let you know when each new chapter is published. Alternatively you could leave a signed review for this story and we will contact you via fanfiction as we publish each new chapter. **_  
><strong>_

To access the next and subsequent chapters (once they are published) either: scroll down until you see a blue drop down box on the bottom right of the page (or scroll up until you see the same drop down box on the right of the page just above the title) and click 'next' on the right of the box OR click on the down arrow to the right of the chapter number in the blue box and select the desired chapter.


	16. Chapter 16

CHAPTER 16 Just bloody well back-off will you!

Three hours later, Sharron pulled up outside Battersea Police Station. Richard had wanted to see if they could persuade Eddie Carter to testify against Doyle and the others. He also wanted his car back. Sharron had offered to drive and Craig, for once, hadn't complained. Richard had been asleep on the back seat before she'd even started the car. Craig had followed him just ten minutes into the drive back to London, his head leaning against the window. Sharron shook his arm and he opened his eyes slowly.

"We there?"

"We're there," she replied.

"I hope to God they've fixed his car," Stirling said.

"Me too," replied Sharron, glancing back at Richard who was sleeping peacefully and looking incredibly young and defenceless. "Do you think we should leave him asleep or should we wake him up?"

"Tempting though it is to let him rest, I think he has the best chance of getting Carter to co-operate. We have to give him a shot at it.""

"Give who a shot at what?" said a sleepy voice from the back seat.

"Time to get back to work Richard. Can't lie around all day you know," Craig said brightly. "We've arrived."

The other two opened the car doors to get out. Barrett sat up and followed suit.

"I hope they've fixed my car. I think I'll ask about that first and get the easy bit out of the way before I tackle Eddie." he said, as the three of them entered the police station. Sharron and Craig shot worried looks at each other as they approached the front desk. The desk sergeant looked up.

"How can I...?" He paused, looking at Richard. "Have you been mugged?"

"No, I've not been mugged! My name is Richard Barrett and I've come to collect my car, the white Alpha. Have you finished with it?"

"Er, I'll go and check." The sergeant disappeared through the door behind him.

"Do you think that's a good idea for you to talk to Eddie on your own?" asked Stirling.

"I need to do this Craig."

"Maybe we'll come too."

"Why?"

"Richard you..." Sharron began.

"You don't have anything to worry about," Barrett cut in. "Doyle's the one I want to kill, not Carter."

"Oh." Sharron wasn't sure what else to say.

The door behind the front desk swung open.

"We've finished fingerprinting the car and we've sent it over to the garage, it should be ready in a couple of days."

Richard gritted his teeth and took a deep breath. He knew he was blowing this somewhat out of proportion but ever since Craig and Sharron had told him about his car he'd had an irrational need to see it. He loved his car, took great pride in the fact that it was always clean and didn't have a scratch. Now he'd found out that the bastards who had been torturing him had been driving it around town while he'd been strung up in that cellar. As if that wasn't bad enough, his own Nemesis colleagues had shot it up. It made him want to cry. That, however, was not going to happen in the reception at Clapham Police Station. He pulled himself together and decided that he'd just have to come back to London as soon as it was fixed, that was all.

"I need to see Eddie Carter, one of the men you have in the holding cells," he told the sergeant.

"I'll try and arrange that for you sir," the man replied, and left the room once again.

Richard stood silently waiting for the sergeant to return, he was trying to ignore the concerned glances that his two friends kept shooting him but it was beginning to get on his nerves. If the sergeant didn't return soon he might say something he'd regret. He knew his anger wasn't really directed at them but they might well bear the brunt of it, if he wasn't careful. He breathed a sigh of relief as the sergeant returned.

"I've sorted that out for you Mr. Barrett. There is a small problem though, we don't have any interview rooms free. Would you like to wait or are you happy to interview Mr. Carter in his holding cell?"

"The cell will be fine, thank you," said Richard. He really didn't want to have to wait any longer than strictly necessary.

"OK I'll get one of the constables to show you the way. Er... there's just one other thing...we…er... well, we have rather more prisoners than we can accommodate at the moment, so some of them are doubling up with each other. Seeing as Carter and Doyle were brought in together we decided they wouldn't mind sharing a cell. Apparently they had some sort of violent altercation when we first left them alone in each others' company. No-one noticed for quite some time. Doyle was in a bit of a mess by the time we realised what was going on. Most unfortunate really." He winked at Richard, then continued, "They seem to have smoothed things over now. I'll get the constable to move Doyle in with one of the other prisoners while you conduct the interview with Carter."

A constable appeared at that moment.

"Ready now Mr. Barrett?" he asked.

Richard took a deep breath.

"Yes, lead the way," he said.

As soon as Richard was out of sight Craig marched purposefully up to the sergeant on the desk. Leaning in very close he said,

"I don't care what it takes, I want Barrett's car fixed immediately. If it isn't fully repaired and ready for him to collect later tonight you'll have me to reckon with - understand?"

"Er, yes sir. I'll make a couple of calls and see what I can do."

"Just you make sure it's ready, that's all," said the American.

The sergeant hurried away to check on the progress of Barrett's car.

"Craig," Sharron said, "I noticed a sandwich shop over the road. I'm going to get one for Richard, he must be starving."

"Aren't you going to get me one?"

Sharron sighed, then smiled.

"Chicken salad?"

"Chicken salad."

* * *

><p>As Richard and the constable approached the holding cells they were joined by a second officer.<p>

"I've been told Doyle's being moved in with 'Knuckles' Nestor while Carter gets interviewed. Is that right Evans?" he asked his colleague.

Evans grinned.

"Sure that's right Atkinson, why? There a problem with that?"

"No problem...it's just that...well er ...Knuckles is rather spoiling for a fight. Did the guv know that when he gave the order?" replied Atkinson.

"Oh I should think so, the Guv usually knows what's going on. It's not our place to start questioning stuff, is it? Ah, this is the cell Mr. Barrett, are you ready?"

Richard took a deep breath and nodded wordlessly, he was secretly harbouring the hope that Frankie wouldn't have shaken off the effects of the hypnosis and would ignore him. The constable unlocked the door and said.

"You, Doyle, on your feet, you're being moved."

Frankie stood up slowly, wincing a little as he did. His pained expression changed into a malicious smile as he looked up and saw Richard waiting just outside the cell door.

"Well if it 'aint my little playmate. Eddie, yer boyfriend's 'ere to see ya, now aint that sweet?" he said.

Carter's head snapped up and Barrett saw hope flare in his eyes and then fade as he registered that it was not Mac standing there.

So as not to intrude on the man's unhappiness, Richard looked at Doyle instead. Instantly a mental picture sprang unbidden into his mind. An image of himself, standing in the cellar, his trousers and underwear around his ankles, with Frankie using the device on him. He fought to keep control of himself, trying not to give in to the shaking that threatened to overwhelm him. He manged to get himself under control but then was assailed with an almost uncontrollable desire to punch Doyle. So as not to give in to the impulse, he clenched his hands into tight fists at his side and stood his ground. He was concentrating so hard on keeping himself in check that it wasn't until later that he discovered that his nails had dug into his palms and drawn blood.

"Or maybe it's me 'e wants to see? Is that it Barrett, ya wanna play some more games?"

"That's enough Doyle," said Evans. "Get your stuff together."

Frankie started to pick up his things very slowly. The man was clearly in pain from the beating Eddie had dished out to him but Barrett suspected that the discomfort wasn't the only reason for his lack of urgency. Doyle was taking full advantage of this opportunity to taunt Richard further.

"Ya look like yer've been 'avin' a bit of fun without me - yer've got blood on ya. Now that aint fair, ya know 'ow much I like to play with ya. Fancy goin' off findin' yerself another little friend the minute my back's turned. Still it goes to prove wot we both knew all along - you enjoy it don't ya?"

Richard bit back the retort that sprang to his lips, about Doyle himself looking extremely bruised and bloodied, and looked away, trying to ignore the effect this man had on him. He had no intention of allowing himself to be brought down to Frankie's level.

"No more of your lip Doyle, bring your things and follow me," said Atkinson.

Just at that moment a man shouted from one of the other cells a little way down the corridor.

"Damn, I'll have to check that out," said Atkinson. "New prisoner, just arrived, knows _all_ his rights. I'll go and tell him his solicitor's on his way - that should keep him quiet for a bit. You carry on with moving Doyle - OK?"

"You got to be kidding! No way am I unlocking Nestor's cell unless you're right here with me. The mood he's in he might just swing for me," said Evans.

"You've got a point there. Hang on here a moment then, I'll be right back," Atkinson said.

He hurried out of the door, as he passed the cell opposite a voice called out,

"Ya listenin' out there? You find somewhere else to put Doyle, I aint sharin'."

"Be quiet Nestor. You're in no position to make demands," said Evans.

"I aint makin' demands it's just a friendly warnin'. I wouldn't go puttin' anyone in 'ere with me - not if ya know wot's good for 'im anyways," replied Nestor.

"Hurry up Atkinson," called Evans. "We need to move Doyle now, so that Mr. Barrett can conduct his interview with Carter."

Frankie swallowed hard, he knew that he was being set up for a beating but he also knew he could do nothing to stop it. He decided to take out his frustration on Richard.

"Aw Barrett, so it _is _yer boyfriend ya come to see. Aint that nice? 'E probably aint all that bothered about ya now - not after that last little game wot you and me enjoyed together. Ya aint gonna be much good to 'im any more are ya?"

He looked meaningfully down at Barrett's crotch, grinning sadistically. Richard was unable to stop himself from squirming slightly, a movement that he repressed instantly, but Doyle had seen the action and laughed.

"Still 'urts does it? Wot a shame."

"DOYLE SHUT UP! Come on Atkinson, NOW!" yelled Evans. He marched up to Frankie and seized him by the arm, making him grunt in pain.

Atkinson came running back as Evans started to hustle Doyle roughly towards the door.

As they drew level with Richard, Frankie's hand shot out in the direction of the Nemesis man's crotch. If he was going to get beaten-up he had no intention of suffering alone. He aimed to grab Richard's balls and twist hard.

He never made it.

Richard moved like lightning and Frankie found himself hoisted halfway up the wall, the Nemesis man's right hand at his throat. At first Doyle's face showed only shock. Then he met Barrett's eyes. The look in them was so chilling that Frankie's expression changed to one of terror. Seconds passed and no-one moved, the tension between Doyle and Barrett was so palpable that the onlookers were too stunned to attempt to intervene. Then Richard slowly opened his hand and Frankie fell to the floor. Doyle scrambled to his feet and hurried out of the cell, closely followed by the two policemen. Once he was safely in the corridor Frankie recovered his bravado, he turned towards Richard and said,

"Oh, I get it now - yer've come 'ere so 'e can kiss it better for ya aint ya? Ya filthy faggot, ya make me sick." He paused, then spat on the floor.

Between them the two constables unlocked the door to Nestor's cell and thrust Doyle inside, slamming the door behind him.

"Yer wanna watch 'im mate," he yelled, as they locked the door. "The minute yer back's turned 'e'll 'ave 'is trousers off and...well it's just disgusting 'aint it?"

As Atkinson marched off down the corridor Evans returned to Carter's cell.

"Thank you Constable, you may leave us alone now," Richard said.

Evans looked from Barrett to Carter and back again.

"Hang on a minute, I'm not happy about this - you're not...er...what he said are you?" he asked.

"No, I'm not," said Richard, tersely, as he stepped inside the cell. He turned back to Evans immediately, the constable was standing there, one hand on the door.

"Are you going to be closing that?" Barrett asked.

After hesitating for a moment Evans swung the door shut and locked it. Richard stood with his back to Eddie marshaling his thoughts. He took a deep breath, trying to relax the muscles in his back and neck a little. Unclenching his fists he noticed four crescent shaped marks in each palm. He wiped the blood away angrily and subconsciously his hand went to his pocket, pulling out his cigarettes. He had one halfway to his mouth before he remembered he'd lost his lighter. As he replaced the cigarette in the pack Carter spoke,

"Er...Mr. Barrett?"

Richard turned and saw the man was holding out a silver zippo. He took it from him and turned it over. On the back was engraved 'R.B.' Without saying a word he retrieved his cigarette and lit it.

"I...er...I sneaked it in 'ere. Didn't think they'd believe it were mine so I didn't give it in." He fiddled with his own pack of cigarettes. "Oh, um, the wallet with my stuff...that's yours and all," Carter added, not looking at Barrett as he lit up. "Sorry I lifted it but..." his voice trailed away.

"You weren't expecting that I'd need it again," Richard said drily as he placed the lighter on the small desk against the wall and walked over to the opposite bed. He didn't add that there'd been times he'd thought the same thing. Carter continued to stare at the floor. From outside the door he could hear banging and Doyle's voice, yelling to be put in another cell. Barrett didn't even try to stop himself from smiling. Still, this wasn't making the conversation any easier. Eddie was less likely to talk if he thought Frankie would end up in a cell with him again. He made a mental note to ask the constable to keep Doyle in with Nestor, a win-win situation.

"I'll get Frankie moved permanently," Richard said.

He decided to sit on the bed, as he did so he winced slightly. Eddie chose that moment to look up. He glanced downwards, then immediately back up at the Nemesis man's face.

"Shouldn't you be in 'ospital?" he asked Richard.

"Probably."

Carter shifted uncomfortably.

"Sorry about that." He nodded his head towards the door. "And the rest of it." Eddie went back to staring at the floor.

Richard decided to move on. He knew he looked a wreck and could do without being reminded of it every few minutes.

"You'll be pleased to know we've arrested your boss," he began, "and, since he took a few pot shots at me, we can get him for attempted murder. He'll be inside for a long time." Barrett paused, waiting for that to sink in. "Apparently you don't know much about him anyway."

Carter shrugged and shook his head.

"And I'm far more concerned for the moment about what happens to Doyle." As he spoke a second voice began yelling across the hallway. "At the moment," Richard continued, raising his voice over the noise, "we can charge him with grievous bodily harm but I don't know how many years that'll get him. Not enough, as far as I'm concerned." Barrett ploughed on. "I'll admit, part of this is personal, but mostly I just don't want him to have the opportunity to do anything like that ever again."

He stopped and watched Carter's reaction. That was as close as Richard was going to come to talking about his feelings concerning Frankie Doyle. He'd only been willing to go that far because he wanted Eddie's help. In the other cell the banging started up again, although now the accompanying screaming suggested that it was something other than Doyle's fists being pounded into the door.

"So Eddie," he continued, "I need you to think very carefully about what happens now. We both know Frankie's psychotic, that he needs to be put away and I need your help to make sure it's for a very long time."

Barrett noticed Carter grind his teeth. What he was asking the man to do went against the grain, he knew that.

"This is your best, and possibly your last, chance to get away from all this," Richard continued. "At the moment you're being charged with false imprisonment and, with your record, that'll mean prison. On the other hand, if you co-operate, I'll speak in your defence."

Carter looked up, possibly trying to gauge whether or not to trust him.

"I'm not saying I can get the charges dropped, but my testimony will mean a lot. Without it there's no reason for a jury to believe you're not responsible for what happened to me."

Eddie took a slow drag on his cigarette, obviously thinking things through.

"And of course there's Mac," Richard added.

The other man looked up sharply at this.

"I spoke with him and he seems fairly convinced now that you had nothing to do with...all this." Barrett didn't elaborate, Eddie knew what he was talking about. "He wants to talk to you. Do you want to see him?"

For the second time since he'd arrived at the cell he saw Carter's face light up.

"Of course I wanna to see 'im," Eddie said quickly. "Thanks...I really mean it, thanks."

Richard decided to press his advantage.

"I'll be honest, if you go to prison..." he let the words hang there for a minute, watching the other man struggle to reconcile what he wanted and years of belief that, no matter what, you never co-operated with the police.

"Should I ring Mac for you?" the Nemesis man asked.

Still Carter didn't say anything. It had gone very quiet across the hallway, Nestor had obviously finished taking his frustrations out on his new cell mate, for the time being.

"Well?"

Eddie nodded imperceptibly.

"Call 'im. I'll do wot you want and not just because of Mac. What Frankie did was…" His face took on a greenish hue as he remembered, "Well you know better than anyone. I want out and that's a fact so I'll tell it like it is. You can rely on me to co-operate. I'm not saying I'm 'appy about it mind – I don't like coppers. But I reckon I owe ya and, if I get meself a chance to make a decent life with Mac as well, that's more than I deserve."

Barrett stood up and knocked on the cell door. As he waited he turned back to Carter.

"Thank you," he said. "Seriously."

He wasn't going to admit that he would almost certainly have been dead without this man, Eddie could take his last statement any way he wanted. The door opened and Richard strode out before the other man could reply.

"Mr. Barrett you forgot this," Eddie called.

"Keep it," Richard said gruffly, without turning round. He knew only too well that Carter meant his lighter and, after what Doyle had used it for, he never wanted to see it again.

"But Mr. Barr..."

Richard wheeled round and the expression in his eyes froze the words on the other man's lips. Eddie hastily shoved the lighter out of sight and looked away as the Nemesis man squared his shoulders, turned and walked out of the cell.

* * *

><p>Evans locked the door behind Barrett and said,<p>

"Er, I'm sorry about what I said before, it's just that what Doyle said got to me a bit. What he suggested you and Carter are, well it's unnatural isn't it? But now I've had time to think a bit I can see Doyle was just trying to stir it up. I mean it's obvious you're not that way isn't it - you've only got to look at you to see that. Doyle'll get his come-uppance though. Orders from the Guv say he's to share that cell with Nestor for the time being. Course we can't let Knuckles get too carried away like, but we're busy men - we don't always hear stuff that goes on between these lags, and anyway they need to sort it for themselves. Trouble is Nestor seems to be on a very short fuse all the time - we've never worked out what sets him off and he isn't much of a one for talking, he sorts things out with his fists. Doyle can be handy with his fists too, but he's a lot smaller than Nestor - shame eh?"

He winked broadly.

Richard set off down the corridor. He didn't bother to hide his smile when he heard Frankie groaning in pain and Nestor telling him to shut up if he knew what was good for him.

Craig and Sharron looked up as Richard came back into the reception area and walked over to the front desk.

"I need you to take a look through Eddie Carter's belongings," Barrett said to the desk sergeant. "My wallet should be in there."

He stood with his back to his two colleagues as the police officer left. Then he leaned on the counter top, a wave of fatigue suddenly washing over him. He tried to shut out the feelings of concern coming from his friends but he couldn't help hear the scrape of a chair and Sharron's footsteps.

"Richard..."

"I'm fine," he snapped looking directly ahead.

"Oh," Sharron replied. "I was only going to ask if you wanted this."

He turned to see her holding out a sandwich. He smiled sheepishly and took it, suddenly very hungry. Nobody said anything as they waited, Richard taking large bites until he'd devoured the lot. As he was searching for somewhere to throw the paper wrapper the sergeant came back.

"Is this it, sir?"

"That's the one." Richard took it and flipped it open, noting the absence of about half of his cash.

"You'll need to fill in this form Mr. Barrett."

As Richard completed the paper work Craig approached.

"OK, let's get back to the hotel. Tremayne wanted an update and I could use a shower."

The policeman behind the desk cleared his throat theatrically,

"Excuse me Mr. Barrett but the form you filled in doesn't entitle you to possession of that wallet. All it does is register your claim to it. I can't let you take it without authorisation from my superior. It was handed in with Carter's belongings and, in the absence of proof to the contrary, it's his. I can't just go handing over prisoner's belongings like that you know."

He took the wallet back, picked up the forms Richard had completed and started to head for the door. Craig moved menacingly forward.

"If Mr. Barrett says that wallet belongs to him then you can take his word for it. Hand it over to him now, he's completed the paperwork so you're covered," he said.

The constable quailed slightly but stood his ground.

"I'm sorry Sir, but it's more than my job's worth, " he said, backing rapidly towards the door.

As soon as he was through it Barrett turned on Stirling.

"I don't need you to fight my battles for me," he snapped. "I'm quite capable of claiming my own wallet thank you very much. I wish you and Sharron would stop kid-gloving me. We all know what I've been through and you two mollycoddling me isn't helping me feel any better about myself and what happened so just bloody well back-off will you!"

Craig did quite literally that.

"And you know what," Richard continued, "there's hardly anything in it any more so forget it." He turned and headed toward the front door. As he passed Sharron she heard him mumbling to himself,

"He's got my bloody lighter anyway, he might as well have my wallet as well."

She and Craig exchanged a worried look before following their friend out.

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><p><strong>NB: THE FINAL CHAPTER WILL BE PUBLISHED LATER THIS WEEK.<strong>

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><p><em><strong>Your help is needed!<strong>_

_We have just started work on a new feature length story. Reviews of 'The Karpov Code' are especially welcome right now because they will help us decide what we should include (and exclude) in our new fiction._

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><p><em><strong><span>WARNING:<span> 'The Karpov code' now carries an M rating (for violence). _**Because of this it is 'invisible' on the default Champions' fanfiction page. If you want to continue reading the story and not miss new chapters as they are published we suggest that you either subscribe to story alerts or send us a private message asking us to let you know when each new chapter is published. Alternatively you could leave a signed review for this story and we will contact you via fanfiction as we publish each new chapter. **_  
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	17. Chapter 17

CHAPTER 17 - How about another round of drinks?

The following morning Sharron, Craig and Richard walked into the Nemesis building in Geneva. They'd considered taking a flight back to Switzerland the night before but Tremayne had pointed out that there wasn't any need for them to rush back as they'd done all they could for the time being. He'd advised them to get some proper rest at the hotel and take the first flight home the next day. Richard had been keen to return immediately but the other two had over-ruled him and they'd all returned together that morning.

As they had feared, it had not been the most pleasant trip. Richard had been silent or, at best, monosyllabic all the way home. Even the news that his car had been repaired and was being shipped back to Switzerland later that day had failed to improve his tension between the three operatives was hard to miss as they walked into Tremayne's office. The older man looked up briefly, took in the situation, and sighed quietly as they sat down. He was relieved that Barrett looked better than when he had last seen him but it was obvious that he was angry. Tremayne knew that what he was about to tell them was not going to help his operatives' mood. He poured drinks for his agents, handed them round, then filled his own glass with a generous measure of scotch.

"Welcome back," he began after he'd taken a sizeable gulp from his glass, "I've read your preliminary accounts of what happened and here are the reports from the surveillance done over here." He slid a file towards Craig and continued. "We've traced the leak within Nemesis to a code breaker by the name of Pers Sorensson." He turned towards Barrett. "Richard, Internal Security will want to talk to you about any times you've worked with him."

The agent nodded silently.

"We're sure it was him?" Sharron asked.

"He's admitted it. He says he thought he was working on an Internal Security covert operation."

"And you really believe that?" Barrett asked quietly.

"I'm not sure if I do, but it's certainly true that he has been very co-operative. He's only been here a year, it_'s _justpossible that he didn't realise that we don't do things that way."

Richard shrugged. He didn't know the man well and would certainly not have considered him a friend, but he'd worked with him enough to know that the man was no idiot. It seemed unlikely that he didn't know standard Nemesis procedure.

"What about Taylor?" Stirling asked.

"He was flown back here last night," Tremayne replied, "Internal Security are interviewing him. Needless to say they are not pleased."

"I bet they're not," Craig said. "He's compromised their entire department."

"Which is their business from now on. In fact, as far as you are concerned the case is closed. You should head down to medical and then take a few days off."

"That's it?" Richard asked incredulously. "We don't get to interview the people we arrested at the air strip? There could be all sorts of implications..."

"Richard," Tremayne cut him off. "That's not going to be possible."

The three agents looked at their boss for a moment. The older man sighed heavily and took another large gulp of his drink; this was the bit he hadn't been looking forward to.

"Have the British government detained them?" Sharron asked. "Do MI6 have...?"

"No, not the British." Tremayne said quickly. He paused for a moment, then continued,

"This has caused an almighty stink. Obviously the presence of what appears to be CIA agents covertly operating in Britain is an acknowledged fact but not one that anybody wants to own up to. To further complicate the situation, they have kidnapped Nemesis personnel and attempted to steal codes from the UN. However, proving that they actually do work for the CIA is next to impossible since they're hardly likely to admit to it."

"Well, if we..." Craig butted in.

"Stirling." Tremayne held up a hand. "You know how these things work. Meetings are happening behind closed doors and deals are being made. All I can tell you is that the Americans are claiming that all the people we've rounded up have outstanding arrest warrants in the States and, on the strength of that, they've demanded that the British extradite them."

"_All _of them?" Richard asked in disbelief.

"No, not quite. Unsurprisingly they've only asked for the people who might provide concrete evidence about the organisation behind all this. That includes the man you knew as 'the boss', who has been identified as John Hillman. One of our older agents recognised him from a mission in Bolivia, years ago. Naturally the Americans have requested we also extradite Miss Temnikova and Mr McGuire. They would almost certainly have asked for Johnson too but, of course, he's dead, killed presumably because he knew who Hillman's employers were and might be 'persuaded' to co-operate with us. They're willing to let us keep our people, together with the thugs they used - Mayes, Carter and the two Doyles." Tremayne said.

"Generous of them to leave us the hired hands who can't tell us anything of any use," Craig said sarcastically.

"But the British won't just tamely allow the extradition surely?" Sharron said.

"They already have. All of them were put on a direct flight to Washington D.C. this morning. It is very unlikely we will ever hear of them again. What I can tell you is that Hillman left the United States eighteen years ago, allegedly after committing a series of bank robberies. He eventually turned up in London, running various criminal operations."

"That doesn't explain where he learned how to interrogate people so professionally," said Stirling. "It seems far more likely he was trained by the CIA and then sent under cover to England"

"I agree Craig, in fact there are a number of things that point towards that. He was briefly in the military, there are no records as to why he was discharged or where he was for the next four years except that he turned up in various places including southeast Asia and a number of South American states. Then there's a two-year gap in the records until he appears in London. We are not alone in wanting to find out the details of everything he's been involved in, but we'll probably never know the whole story."

Tremayne looked at his three agents as the information sank in. Craig and Sharron looked furious, Richard, for once, was hard to read. He was staring blankly out of the window, which was worrying the older man intensely. He could understand their frustration, he shared it, but there was little that even he could do.

"I shall be heading to Washington this afternoon," he continued. "Although I cannot specifically accuse anybody of doing anything I shall be making very sure that they're aware that we know they were behind this. That might not sound like much, but it's no small thing to have the CIA owe you something, it could turn out to be very useful. I also doubt that Hillman, Miss Temnikova and the others will be getting a very friendly reception from their employers. The CIA doesn't take kindly to being implicated in scandals like this one. It's highly probable their operatives are in for a 'difficult time'."

"Oh well that's good," Barrett said flatly as he rose. His tone of voice made it crystal clear that he had no intention of continuing the conversation, even at the risk of antagonising Tremayne. "I presume this debriefing is over then."

"Essentially yes, but I'd like you all to read the files and talk to Internal Security. Medical first though Richard."

Barrett put down his drink turned and strode to the door. He stood with his back to Tremayne waiting for him to open it. Craig and Sharron hesitated for a moment before putting their own drinks beside Richard's, standing up and heading after their friend. None of the three turned back towards Tremayne as they walked out of the office. The older man sighed heavily then stood up and poured himself another drink.

As soon as the door shut behind them Stirling held up his hand to stop the other two from walking away.

"I don't know about you two but that's left a very nasty taste in my mouth. How about we all go back to my place, I'll fix up some food for us and we can share a few drinks and maybe wash it out."

Sharron nodded her agreement immediately but, for a moment or two, Richard looked as if he were going to refuse. He'd actually started to shake his head when he saw the look on Craig's face and realised that there was a little more behind his friend's offer than just a chance to share some sustenance.

"Why not?" he said, as he shrugged his shoulders and followed Craig and Sharron to the car park.

* * *

><p>A short while later they were all sitting in Stirling's flat with drinks in hand. The leftovers from the meal that the American had put together were on the table in front of them.<p>

"Now," began Craig, "I don't know about you two but I am not going to let this go that easily."

"What do you suggest we do? Tremayne made it clear that, as far as we're concerned, the case is closed," Richard objected.

"Since when did we meekly follow orders when our consciences dictated otherwise?" Stirling asked.

"When we had no other choice," Barrett replied flatly.

"We _do _have a choice, we've all got some leave now," Craig said.

"What are you suggesting?" Sharron asked.

"That we do a little digging on our own, or maybe go to the press. Show the CIA that no-one pushes us around and gets away with it," the American said.

"Look Craig, I want to get even just as much as you do," Barrett said. "More, in fact, but I can't see that we can win this one. Tremayne made it clear that the orders from on high were to back off. You know as well as I do that the papers will bury it as soon as the pressure is piled on them. All we'll do is put everyone's backs up and achieve nothing."

"Richard's right, we can't go to the press and I can't see that 'a little digging', as you call it, will get us anywhere," Sharron put in.

"I can't understand why the two of you are so reluctant to take this further. Doesn't it rankle that they're being allowed to get away with this, time and time again, right under our noses?" Craig demanded indignantly.

"Of course it bl... oops, sorry Sharron... Of course it does, but I really can't see we have any choice," Richard said.

"I still think we should do a bit of investigating on our own time. Who knows what we'll find?" Stirling persisted.

"I'll tell you exactly what we'll find, absolutely nothing," Barrett said. "Or, if we do find something, we'll never get as far as using it. Give it up Craig, it's not worth using our valuable leave on, and I think you know that really, don't you?"

"Yes, I suppose I do but I really hate to let them get away scot-free after what they put you through, Richard."

"I feel the same as Craig about that," Sharron said.

"Yes me too," Richard said bitterly. He took a deep breath. "Look, I'm sorry I went off the deep end in the police station. I wasn't really mad at you two, well maybe just a little, but it was Doyle I really wanted to lay into."

"I know," Craig said quietly.

"So what do we do?" Sharron said. "Do we let it go or not? Richard, you're the one with the biggest score to settle, you say what you want to do and we'll back you up, whatever you decide."

"I say we let it go. And you can take that stubborn look off your face Craig. Sharron's right, I do have the biggest axe to grind and I can't see we are going to achieve anything by trying to take on the CIA, they're just too big. We'll just have to be satisfied with the knowledge that they owe us. Who knows when Nemesis may need to call in that favour? Anyway not everyone got away with it - Doyle is behind bars and, from what I've heard, the police are going to make sure he gets a _very _rough time of it," Richard said.

"No more than he deserves after what he..." Craig broke off abruptly at the expression on his friend's face.

Sharron hurried into speech,

"Besides Tremayne was right, the CIA aren't likely to welcome their people back with open arms. No-one will have come out of this entirely unscathed." She paused for a moment and looked from Richard to Craig. "So are we agreed, we let it go?"

"I guess so if that's what Richard wants, but if the opportunity ever arises when we get the chance to even the score, don't expect me to hold back," Stirling said.

"Hold back? We'll be shoulder to shoulder with you urging you on," Barrett replied.

Sharron cleared her throat and looked meaningfully at Craig who reached into his trouser pocket and pulled out a small gift-wrapped package.

"Er, Sharron and I bought you a little present," he said a little sheepishly.

He held the parcel out to Richard who took it and stared at it, looking embarrassed.

"Well open it then," Sharron said.

Richard unwrapped the gift slowly.

"We'd like to get it engraved for you, " Craig said.

"Let us know what you'd like on it and we'll get it done as soon as possible," said Sharron.

"Thank you, I will," said Richard, forcing the words past the lump that had unaccountably formed in his throat. "So that's why you dropped Craig off at the jewellers on the way back to the hotel Sharron - I might have guessed!" He hesitated a moment and looked down at the floor, overwhelmed and embarrassed by the rush of emotion he felt. "Er…thanks...I er...well... Thanks. I'd like to keep it for a few days before I decide what I want on it, is that all right with you?"

Sharron nodded her agreement.

"Sure," Stirling said. "Now, how about another round of drinks?"

Sharron held out her glass for a refill and, while Craig busied himself pouring her drink. Richard looked at the two of them, separated his new lighter from the paper his friends had wrapped it in, and put the gift into his pocket. It was great to have such loyal friends, he thought happily, and he smiled his first genuine smile since he'd been knocked out and taken to the cellar all those days ago.

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><p><strong>THE END<strong>

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><p>Hope you enjoyed it. Reviews are most welcome.<p> 


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